


The Pet

by Robin_Redd



Series: The Knight [2]
Category: Original Work, The Knight (Original Work)
Genre: Alcohol, Biting, Blood Drinking, Deadname Mentioned, Drinking, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Groping, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, Isolation, M/M, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Groping, Sexual Favors as Bets, Sexual Tension, Trans Character by Trans Writer, Trans Male Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires, Voyeurism, deadnaming, mentions of torture, tagged non-con just on case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Redd/pseuds/Robin_Redd
Summary: The second book in my "The Knight" series. Ser Abraham Radcliff has been taken to the vampiric capitol entangled in a plot to kill the Queen. He must play his part, conspiring with Prince Dorian Bremondt in the hopes of a brighter future for both of their countries.
Relationships: Dorian Bremondt/Abraham Radcliff
Series: The Knight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023286
Comments: 28
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome all to the second book in the series I started for NaNoWriMo2020. I loved these characters so much that I decided to just keep going. This is the second book in the series, so please keep that in mind when reading. Understanding this will depend on having read "The Knight." 
> 
> Updates will come at least once a week on Sunday, but occasionally on Wednesday as well if I'm feeling particularly speedy. Keep in mind this is a first draft with very light editing so it's not perfect.
> 
> This one is going to be a bit darker than the last, and also way more smutty, so mind your tags and enjoy!

The Holy Church of Tinian taught that Abreon was a land of spiritual ruin. Holy books penned by humans that had fled south promised torture - eternal damnation in the face of unspeakable debauchery. They spoke of the land like it was a den of sin, that the corridors of the Red Palace ran with rivers of blood, and the moans and screams of humans could be heard as they were tormented by their vampiric captors. In his younger years, Abraham had imagined that this place was the mouth of hell. The magic that surrounded it would be a thick, caustic thing that would eat away at his soul if he was ever unlucky enough to set foot in it long before any vampire had sunk their teeth in his flesh. 

The Prince’s workshop did nothing to dissuade those rumors. 

Abraham had to be dragged out of the throne room, meeting Dorian’s gaze with a look of hatred that only just masked his shock. He had tried to pay attention to the path through the palace, but was quickly lost in the twisting hallways. Everything was gilded and patterned, and hallways seemed to snake around themselves in a dizzying pattern. Every breath felt as if it came through a layer of cloth, the magic so opposed to his own that he gagged on it. His captors weren’t gentle as they shoved him forward, and Abraham was struck by their strength. He knew vampires were stronger than him. Even with his divine blessings, he couldn’t match their raw strength, but he’d made a point never to get close enough to feel it for himself. His struggles earned him nothing but bruises as he was gripped tighter. He was pushed through a series of rooms decorated in soft colors and elaborate designs that could have fit in well in Tinian.

The room they stopped in was much more what he’d been expecting. Implements of torutre glittered in white magelight. The racks and table, each with their own heavy restraints, looked far more menacing because of it. Abraham threw himself to the side as he was led deeper into the workshop, trying to dislodge one of the hands holding him. He almost succeeded, feeling the grip weaken, only to be shoved forward, against hard iron bars. He was forced into a small cell, the door slamming shut before he could scramble to his feet. From where he was, He could only see the large table in the center of the room, lit up like a stage. 

Abraham recognized some of them from the dungeons of the grand cathedral. He knew they were often used to deal with heretics, a way to ensure that the lessons they tried to teach stuck. Abraham didn’t have to imagine what they were used for here. He tried to tell himself that this was part of the act, that Dorian wasn’t planning on actually using any of this on him. Even so, doubt kept a stranglehold on his throat.

This was the Prince’s workshop, after all. 

Abraham had no doubt that Dorian had intentionally withheld his title. The word Prince still sent a chill washing through him. Little was known about the royal family, except that they were the epitome of everything wrong with Aberon. They were the eyes and ears of the Queen. They acted as her surrogates, their every act an extension of her will. Abraham had only ever heard of one son in his time, the Prince Victor that Dorian had not so subtly expressed hatred for. There were rumors of others throughout history, beings of unusual strength and cruelty who were disposed of the moment they outlived their usefulness. Dorian had said as much when he’d been teaching Abraham about the royal line, sketching out the countless aborted liniages. 

Abraham turned his back on the workshop. He didn’t want to think about what Dorian did here. His cell was small, enough room for one person with a small bench attached to the far wall. It was positioned perfectly so that he could see whatever happened on the table in the next room. He didn’t know why it disturbed him. Dorian had  _ warned _ him that things would be different once they reached the palace, but seeing it was different. He’d been cold in the throne room, a casual indifference about how Abraham was treated.

He’d expected Dorian to come rather quickly, but as the minutes turned to hours, a sense of dread settled in his stomach. He knew Dorian wasn’t the most trustworthy. It had taken everything in him to let himself be dragged here like a prisoner. Despite how careful Dorian had been to ensure that he was comfortable, despite his promises that he was doing this for the greater good, and he wouldn’t do anything to disrespect his vows, Marcus’ words still rang in his ears. 

Dorian could always be counted on to act in his own self-interest, and Abraham had no way of knowing if what he’d told him had been anything close to the truth. It was too late for him to change his mind now. The bars of his cell were solid, and even if he got out, he wasn’t keen on fighting his way through a palace without his weapons. He had no choice but to put his faith in Dorian and pray that he was genuine. 

Abraham didn’t know when he’d slept. He woke to the sound of footsteps, rising to his feet expectantly. “Dorian?”

The figure that came into view was not the vampire. It was a human woman, dressed in a simple shift her hair pulled back from her face. She didn’t look at him as she knelt to push the tray through the gap in his cell door. 

“Where is Dorian?” He demanded, doubt raked claws of panic down his throat. 

The woman squeaked in surprise when he stepped forward, tripping over her feet and landing with an undignified yelp. She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, and Abraham drew back in shock.

She was on her feet and gone before he’d even had a chance to open his mouth. Abraham growled in frustration, glaring down at the tray. He lifted the bowl, half expecting to find a note from Dorian, but there was nothing. It took everything he had not to throw it across the room in frustration. He was hungry. He didn’t know when he would be fed again. He’d learned on the road to eat when he could.

If Dorian  _ had _ lied to him…

Abraham pushed the thought away. He ate mechanically, barely tasting the stew. Unsure what to do with himself, Abraham paced around his cell. It was barely two strides across, set into a small room off to the side of the workshop. He couldn’t see much else from where he was. He was a little surprised that this was the only cell. Dorian must only take on one project at a time. 

_ How responsable of him. _ The thought came unbidden, and Abraham scowled, throwing himself down onto the bench. He was woefully underprepared for this. Did Dorian intend to torture him? He certainly had the tools for it. He’d warned him. The night before they’d come here, he’d warned that it would hurt. He would have to hurt him, to tame him and keep up appearances. He would be cold and indifferent, and that he was  _ sorry _ for it all.

The claws in his throat tightened. He forced air through his teeth, his vision going grey around the edges. Abraham bowed forward, hand clutching his chest. No. Dorian wouldn’t do that. He had to believe that he wouldn’t. The thought did nothing to quell the panic rising in him. He could taste magic in the air. It did little to quell his anxiety. It pounded against his head, sang with the divine blessings in his blood like the scrape of steel on stone. 

Where  _ was _ he?

Abraham didn’t know how much time passed. It was long enough that a handful of meals had been brought to him, seemingly at regular intervals. Boredom drove him to sleep, but anxiety had him jerking awake at odd intervals, his heart racing with panic when he realized he was still trapped. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was pacing eyes tracing the cracks in his cell walls as if he could widen them by sheer force of will. His conviction wavered, swinging wildly from being sure that Dorian was playing his role to an absolute certainty that he’d made a mistake. He tried to cling to the memory of the nights they’d spent in the farmhouse, but every time he thought of those lingering looks and warm smiles, they were invaded by the cold indifference that Dorian had shown him in the throne room. 

Perhaps it had all been some sort of trick. Perhaps this was a touch of madness, or his way of explaining away being captured by a vampire. In the still hours of the day, he revisited the memories of their last night of the farmhouse. He could still feel Dorian around him, his thighs pressed against his hips. Abraham remembered the way his hips had pressed forward, desperate for something that he couldn’t even name. Abraham shoved that thought away as well. He didn’t want those memories. He settled in to wait, a thousand words bouncing around in his head of what he would say to the man when he saw him.

***

The first time he heard boots on the polished floor, he was asleep. Abraham shot to his feet, bolting towards the cell door as his heart beat a rapid rhythm in his chest. He saw him first, his dark eyes landing on Abraham with a look of disgust that sent a shockwave of relief through him so strong that it made him dizzy. Anger came on it’s heels like nothing he’d ever felt before. 

If Dorian on the road had dressed well, he was dressed like a prince now. His dark hair was clean and glossy, the curls twisted into a complex braid. His shirt was a deep, rich green, laced tightly up his neck and wrists. Tight black pants were tucked into heeled boots that molded themselves up his calves. If Abraham didn't know better, he would have said Dorian was modestly dressed. There were several people behind him, humans dressed in the same plain shift as the first servant. The smirk on his face made Abraham’s blood boil. 

“Have him stripped and bathed.” Were the first words out of his mouth.

“Yes, my Prince.” 

Abraham tensed, ready to fight as the door was unlocked. He lashed out, his fist connected with a soft cheek. He felt a moment of triumph. He was still a knight of Tinian. He’d spent his life fighting. The man who had been opening the cell crumbled, and Abraham stepped over him. 

"Where-" he began and Dorian struck, his dark eyes glittering with anger. He was fast, faster than Abraham had expected. He grabbed Abraham’s wrist, hooking a foot under him to pivot them, slamming Abraham hard against the bars of his cell.

Dorian pressed himself against Abraham’s back, twisting his arm backwards at a sharp angle, "You dare." Dorian’s voice was filled with malice. Abraham could feel the strength in his grip. He tried to move, pain lancing through his arm. “Truly, Ser Radcliff, are you going to fight  _ now _ ? I'm telling you to  _ relax _ .” 

Abraham ground his teeth as Dorian's thumb traced along the wrist that he held. "Let me  _ go _ ." He demanded. "You lied to me." The words slipped out before he could stop them, tearing at something in his chest. 

Dorian laughed, a soft seductive sound that betrayed nothing. "Would you have come otherwise?" He pulled him away from the wall. Nodding to two of the people that accompanied him. "Bind his hands." He looked to a third, “Take the unconscious one back to Prince Victor and give him my sincerest apologies.” 

“Yes, my Prince.” Abraham glared up into dark eyes as his arms were pulled roughly behind his back. Abraham tried to throw the person off, their hands warm and human. Perhaps Dorian thought that would stop him from fighting. Abraham threw his weight backwards, almost dislodged those hands when they pulled with renewed vigor. A knee was planted in the middle of his back, a hand on his neck to force it downwards. 

“Perfect, thank you my sweet.” 

Abraham’s stomach turned. Eager, they were all so eager. Dorian was issued orders as easily as he breathed and the humans around him bent to his will. It had been days since he’d seen him, and Abraham couldn’t place what had changed. 

“Where were you?” He demanded, straining against the shackles that were clamped tightly around his wrists. 

Dorian looked down at him with a pleased expression. “Did you  _ miss _ me? It's quite alright, Ser Radcliff. You and I are going to be spending  _ plenty  _ of alone time together once you're presentable." He nodded to the servants. "Or perhaps I should join you in the bath. You seemed to enjoy it last time."

“I don’t understand.” He twisted his shoulders, trying to throw the person off. He almost succeeded, but Dorian’s voice stopped him.

"Don't make everything worse by harming something that's mine." Abraham craned his neck upwards as best he could. Three months with Dorian had given him a unique look behind his mask. He thought saw the briefest flicker of desperation in the way his lips tightened around his smile, the way he held his breath for too long between his sentences. It was gone so quickly that he couldn’t be sure it had been there at all. Abraham met his gaze and Dorian's lips curled into a mocking smile.

“Are they yours?” Abraham challenged. He was hauled to his feet so that he was facing Dorian. Doubt curled in his stomach when he saw his face fully. There was no concern in his eyes, they seemed to glow with amusement, as if he were looking at a particularly unruly dog. 

“Dorian…” 

“Do not call me that.” He stepped forward, tipping his fingers under Abraham’s jaw. The knight tried not to think of the last time he’d done that, the way it made his stomach flutter with something he didn’t have a name for. “I am your Prince, and you will address me as such.” 

“You  _ lied _ to me,” and he surprised himself how genuine the sense of betrayal felt. Deal or not, Dorian had withheld information… again. 

There was a long pause while Dorian watched him. His expression smoothed into the cool indifference he’d seen from him countless times before. “I said what I had to to get you here.” He waved his hand. “Now, come along, let’s get you cleaned up. I do so hate mess.” 

Abraham’s stomach lurched. “Dorian, wait.” He strained forward even as Dorian stepped aside. 

“You always talk so much. Truly, I’m tired of hearing it.” 

Abraham wished desperately that he could see his face as an icy chill spread through his stomach. He watched Dorian’s back as he led them from the Workshop, his boots clicking loudly on the polished floor.

Abraham tried again to make a map of the palace as he was led to it, but Dorian took them down so many twisting corridors and through identical halls that it was impossible to keep track of. More than once he turned a corner only to start heading the direction they’d just come down a parallel hallway. Without windows to orient himself, he had no way of telling how close they were to the outside. There hadn’t been any windows in the series of rooms they’d gone through either. Everything they passed had some kind of ornamentation. Soft magelight lit everything with a gentle glow. Abraham had never seen so much of it in one place. It was expensive, difficult to do, but it was everywhere here. The walls were decorated with loud paintings depicting people engaged in acts of passion, much of it bloody and depraved.

There were far fewer people than Abraham was expecting, though this was likely the royal wing. The thought made his stomach turn. A few humans seemed to be going about their duties. They stepped out of the way as Dorian breezed past, eyes flickering to Abraham who strained against his bindings. More than once he caught someone looking at him with disgust or hatred. He felt alien here, his dark skin a sharp contrast to the undead creatures and his body spoke of a lifetime of physical activity. 

The only thing he was sure of was that they were going down, polished marble giving way to tile and stone as they stepped into a large chamber. The scent of hot water and flowers tickled his nose as he was matched into the baths. He didn’t know what he’d expected exactly, except that it would be private. The bathing room was anything but. 

A large tub sunk into the floor dominated much of the room. It was carved from dark marble. There were fixtures along the sides to pump water, each of them shining and inlaid with gold. Abraham was struck by the expense. A single fixture could feed a family for months, and only the most wealthy nobility could afford the luxury of having water pumped directly to their homes. The pool of water stretched almost to three walls, with the fourth covered in smaller chambers sectioned off to give the illusion of privacy. The steam that floated through the air gave everything a dream-like quality, and the sound of bodies moving through the water echoed around the open chamber. 

Abraham was pushed towards one of the stalls. He ground his teeth together as Dorian issued orders. Abraham was unceremoniously stripped, gooseflesh prickling along his skin despite the steam. He didn’t like this. He didn’t have too much trouble with nudity. He’d grown up sharing his quarters with others, and there wasn’t always the luxury of privacy on the road, but he could  _ feel _ the eyes on him. Over Dorian’s shoulder, a red-headed woman swam to the edge of the tub, resting his chin on his folded arms as his gaze raked over Abraham’s bare chest. He ground his teeth, pulling hard enough that the shackles cut into his wrists. 

He didn’t like having so many eyes on him, especially after spending so long alone. He wanted answers, he wanted to see some sort of friendliness and warmth in Dorian’s expression again. There was none of that. Abraham’s throat felt tight, and he clenched his hands into tight fists behind him. Had he expected anything less? He and Dorian weren’t friends. They never had been but he couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal. Dorian had saved his life after all. Abraham’s eyes dropped to his hands. They’d healed, not even the slightest hint of scarring. Had that only been a ploy too?

“I want you to know I’m going to kill you for this.” He said. Dorian stepped towards him, pressing himself close enough that Abraham could smell the spice of the scent he’d rubbed into his skin. That was new. The thought made his stomach tightened. He remembered the last time he’d been this close to Dorian. He saw something shift in the vampire’s eyes as he reached up, cupping the back of his neck in a parody of a lover’s embrace.

Dorian pressed with a firm, gentle pressure, the nails on the back of his neck threatening to break skin if he didn’t bow his head. He felt the vampire’s lips brush his ear as Dorian spoke so softly that his voice was hardly more than an exhale, “A little more and I might have reason to get you alone.” It sounded like a threat. Ice slid through his veins. Abraham didn’t know what his expression showed, but Dorian pressed closer, his voice loud enough that it would carry to anyone that was listening. “I do  _ so _ love a challenge. Do you want to hear about what happens to people who threaten me?” Dorian pulled away, his nose wrinkling. “After your bath, perhaps.” 

Dorian stayed close as he released him, his expression his usual amused indifference. Abraham bit his lip. He studied his expression, letting his frustration and fear show on his face. “Please…” Abraham looked to him for approval, and Dorian cocked his head. He hoped that it seemed like he was trying to master himself. “Please… just… not like this. Some privacy at least.” 

He thought he saw something in Dorian’s expression, but it was gone far too quickly for him to process. “So you  _ do _ have manners. Small blessings I suppose. Let’s make a deal then. What would you give me in return?” When Abraham said nothing, he smiled, drawing a finger down Abraham’s chest and stopping at his waist. “I can think of something for you if you’d like.” 

The knight flushed, fighting the urge to lean away from the hand that was slipping so easily between his legs. Heat sparked in his stomach despite his fear. It took everything he had to quell his panic and nod, praying that this was just part of the act. 

Dorian seemed to think for a moment, raising his voice to be heard, “Everyone out.” He spoke as if he were the Queen herself. Abraham remembered him saying that he’d always spoken for her. If there was any doubt that that was still true, it vanished when people began to pull themselves from the baths, clearly unashamed of their own nudity.

“I-I apologize,” one of the human’s behind him, “Your highness, but Prince Victor-”

Abraham didn’t see the person’s expression, but the look Dorian gave the woman triggered something deep and primal in him. He stepped back, heart racing and Dorian let him, dropping his hand from between his legs. “I do not care what Prince Victor told you.” Every word Dorian spoke was carefully laid, “Tell him I am quite thankful for his assistance but I am more than capable of handling this myself. Now, go.” Abraham glanced behind him as they too scrambled out. 

Dorian held that expression for several seconds. He cocked his head to the side again, as if listening for something. Whatever he heard seemed to satisfy him. Dorian let out a shaky breath and relaxed his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He circled around Abraham, unlocking the shackles with quick movements. 

Abraham whirled around, but Dorian was already stepping back, his hands held up in self-defense. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “You have every right to be angry with me.”

“You’re  _ sorry? _ Where  _ were _ you? What in gods’ name was that?” Abraham demanded, rubbing his wrists. He hadn’t broken the skin at least, but they would be sore until his healing kicked in. He could still feel Dorian’s hand between his legs, and he flushed, anger filling him anew. He’d never touched him like that.

“I couldn’t get away,” Dorian replied. He took another step backwards, his eyes widening at whatever he saw in Abraham’s face. “Are you really going to throw a tantrum now? Can you at least do it while bathing. I wasn’t kidding when I said you stank.” 

Abraham glared at him, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood there and felt a little surprised at how indifferent he was to his own nudity now that it was just Dorian. “Where were you?” 

Dorian ran a hand over his face, “With the Queen. We were… catching up.” He shook his head when Abraham opened his mouth, his tone hardening into an order. “You bathe. I’ll talk. We don’t have much time.”

Abraham crossed the room, slipping into the water with a hiss. Dorian followed after a moment, leaning against a pillar his arms folded over his chest. “The Queen isn’t convinced of our ruse. I didn’t expect her to be, but I also don’t think she cares. She’s… different.” Dorian looked troubled, scratching his nails over his arms in a self-soothing gesture. 

“Different bad or different good?” Abraham asked. His anger quickly spiralled away. This was the Dorian he knew. He quickly dumped water over himself, scrubbing his hands through his hair. 

“Just… different. She’s more unpredictable now. I’m… concerned.” 

“Won’t that make it easier to…” 

Dorian shrugged, “If I can find a way to use it. There’s too many eyes right now.” He glanced behind him before coming closer, standing on the edge of the pool so they could talk quietly, “When I left, I was a bit dramatic about it.”

“What-” 

“I denounced the Queen, her entire court, everything. I swore I would never come back. I was hoping bringing something of a peace offering would help.” 

“You mean me.” Abraham snapped. “You neglected to mention that part.” 

“I couldn’t risk you underperforming.” 

“Being given to the Queen was not part of our deal.” 

Dorian waved him off. It set Abraham’s teeth on edge. “If things go to plan, that won’t be a problem.” 

“And if they don’t.” 

“Then you’d better learn to act more respectful.” 

Abraham glared up at him, heat flaring in his chest again. “I’m serious.” 

“So am I. I will do everything in my power to keep you training indefinitely, but if that doesn’t work we will have to figure it out from there.” Dorian’s expression softened when he saw Abraham’s face. He knelt down, bringing himself closer, though he didn’t touch him. “I won’t let that happen, Abraham.” Dorian spoke with so much sincerity that he forgot how to breathe as he looked up at him. “I have ways of keeping her distracted. My…” His mouth turned down in distaste, “brother as well. The servants were his. He graciously offered to let me borrow them since my own household is either dead or has moved on. Be careful around them, they report to him.” 

“They’re human.” Abraham knew that didn’t matter. He’d seen enough humans that were under a vampire’s control to know that it didn’t, but he wanted to believe.

“They are Victor’s. They will report to him everything I do, and you by extension.” 

“You don’t think he believes you?” Abraham scrubbed himself down quickly, scratching at his beard. He felt as scraggly as he looked.

“I know he doesn’t,” Dorian said, “He is completely loyal to the Queen. He would do anything for her, and if he thinks we’re a threat,” He gave him a sharp smile that was full of fang.

“So how do we convince him we’re not?”

Dorian leaned closer, one hand braced on the tile floor as he brought his face closer to Abrhaam’s. “We play our part. You fight me and act like you hate me, and I continue to win you over. So long as we walk that delicate balance, there will be no need for you to ever be sent to the Queen.” 

Abraham wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t say it. He looked up at Dorian and was struck by him. He was always so well put together. There was never a hair out of place. Even on the road he’d taken great care of his appearance. He didn’t know when being around Dorian had become so comfortable. He told himself it was just seeing someone familiar, an ally in this place, but his heart beat faster, “What if…” 

“Hm?” 

“Never mind…” 

He watched Dorian’s smile morph into something more contemplative. He studied Abraham as if he were seeing him for the first time. “What if?”

“I was only wondering if there was a less… forceful way to play our parts, as you put it.” 

Dorian’s expression didn’t change, though his voice took on a teasing edge, “But that’s the fun part.” 

“For you, perhaps, but I don’t like being locked in a cell waiting for you to come to me.” 

Dorian tipped his head back, studying the complex pattern of tiles on the ceiling, “If you can endure for a few days longer, then I might be able to come up with something. The Queen has requested that I spend much of my time with her.” 

“Catching up?”

“...yes.” He fell into silence, his lips parted and his brow furrowed in concentration.

Abraham sank deeper into the hot water, letting it warm him through. “Are you… safe to be around her?” 

Dorian came back to himself blinking, “I… yes. Let me worry about that side of things.” He waved him off again, hand smoothing down his own arm in another soothing gesture. “You’re concerned about me.” 

Abraham scowled. He didn’t doubt things would go poorly for him if something happened to his only ally. 

“Ah, I see.” Dorian smiled, “You don’t have to worry about that. I have things under control.” 

“I hate it when you do that.” Abraham snapped. He glared up at Dorian when he passed him a towel. 

“Do what?” 

“Answer something I didn’t say. Pry into my head. Weren’t you the one that said it was rude?” 

Dorian’s expression fell, and Abraham was surprised that there wasn’t any mockery in his tone, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would be something that would upset you. I’ll try not to in the future.”

“I just want to feel like I can think without worrying about it being used against me.” 

“Another reason why I need to keep you out of sight for now. We need to work on your mental shields. We’re lucky the ones I put in place have held this long, but I’m not the only one with that particular gift.” 

Abraham sighed, stepping out of the tub and dried himself quickly. He glanced at Dorian, but the man was looking away, his gaze fixed on the far wall as he continued to speak. “I know that’s not the answer you wanted, but it’s the only one I have for you. For now, let me think. I’m expected back at the Queen’s side soon, and I’ll need time to come up with a scheme that will allow you to accompany me without putting you in the Queen’s path. I have clothes for you.” He motioned for Abraham to follow into another room. 

The sight of himself in the mirror made him grimace. His normally well kept hair had grown long and shaggy, loose waves falling past his shoulders. He’d lost some of the coloring he’d gotten when he’d been in Turncliff, his dark skin had lost some of its warmth. The entire image looked tired, as tired as he felt. Dorian stepped behind him, frowning at him from the mirror. 

“Here.” He passed him a bundle of clothes, and turned his back so Abraham could change. 

The clothes were nicer than anything he’d owned. So used to being on the road, he didn’t see the point in anything nicer than his ceremonial armor. The shirt was a soft, pale blue, and the pants were the same cut as Dorian’s but were the color of fresh cream. “These are going to be ruined in seconds.” Abraham replied, fingering rich, thick fabric.

“You are more than welcome to walk the palace naked if you’d rather.”

“You can’t be serious.” Abraham grumbled in frustration, but dressed quickly. When Dorian turned back around, he cast an approving eye over him.

“I’m completely serious. It wouldn’t be out of place.” 

“No, thank you.” Abraham stared at him, waiting for Dorian to laugh it off as a joke. He shook his head and Dorian stepped closer, laying his hand on his lower back. 

“Come. I need to get you back.”

Abraham tried to look cowed as they walked, his head bowed low as he fell into step behind Dorian. He glanced up a few times, but he could feel a headache building at the back of his skull that the gilded hallways did nothing to help. The rooms they entered were gentler, the colors softer. Abraham let out a shaking breath as he stopped in the doorway of the workshop. 

A thousand questions pressed against his lips, but when he opened his mouth to ask him, all that came out was a quiet, “I want your word.” 

“Pardon?” Dorian turned towards him, his expression serious.

“Your word. I want you to promise me you won’t leave me in here for longer than a day.” 

Dorian opened his mouth only to close it again. Abraham saw the conflict in his eyes, “What if I don’t?”

Abraham shrugged, “There’s not much I can do, but I will fight you for real. You might even lose…” The words felt hollow, “You’ve asked for my trust, I think I deserve a little something in return.” 

Dorian thought for a moment, “Okay… I will do my best to come tomorrow.” 

“You  _ will _ come tomorrow.” Abraham corrected.

Dorian motioned for him to step into the cell, “I will come tomorrow.” 

Abraham nodded, “Thank you.” The sound of the lock sliding into place made his stomach churn. Dorian looked at him like he wanted to say more, but instead, he shook his head, his braid falling over one shoulder. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the room long after he’d gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to drop me a comment if you did and get ready for this journey! I'm so excited!
> 
> You can follow me for story updates at:  
> robin-redd on Tumblr  
> @RobinRedd8 onTwitter


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaat a chapter posted a little early? What can I say, I'm impatient and wanted to go ahead and get it out. Posting chapters really helps get the juices flowing

_ “What do you think it would take to make you betray your faith?” _

Abraham shifted his weight, grimacing at the ache that radiated down his leg. He’d been sitting still for too long. He’d tried praying. He tried sinking into a deep meditation, but grasping for that sense of peace that always came when he was going through his rituals only left him feeling numb and shaky. It was said that you didn’t need the altar and sacrifice if your faith was strong enough, but Abraham had never been able to do that. He found it impossible to relax and focus without the trappings of his faith to guide him. The sense of calm that spread through him had always stood as an answer from the gods that he was on the right path, and now it was impossible to find. 

It had been three days since Dorian had asked him that question, and he still didn’t have an answer for him. Abraham hadn’t thought about betraying his faith. He wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. He was human, and fell into temptation and even outright sin on occasion, but he always strived to do good. If he slipped up, he atoned for it. He’d purified himself, spending hours at an altar until that sense of calm flooded him and he could think again. He didn’t like thinking about what it would take to make him turn his back on his gods. In truth, they would have to turn his back on him first.

He thought back over his journey with Dorian. There had been times when he’d felt their prescience weaken. He’d felt the cold steel of his weapons, the way his magic had flickered like a candle burned down. Every single one had been after he and Doiran had been… intimate. He’d never wanted to feel that way about anyone, least of all a vampire. He’d spent the better part of his adulthood killing creatures like him. Any attraction he felt for him was instigated by Dorian feeding on him.

He flushed at the memory of teeth in his throat. He hadn’t thought to ask what caused him to react like that to being bitten, and it was likely that Dorian wouldn’t give him a straight answer even if he did. It had been described in the book he’d smuggled from Orlet as well, which meant that it likely wasn’t just something Dorian was doing. He grimaced, remembering that that book was still among his things. He didn’t even know where his pack  _ was _ . Abraham shifted again, hissing as his hip locked up, a sharp pain shooting through one of the tendons in his left foot. 

He could still remember how Dorian had touched him that last time. His hands sliding under his shirt, nails scraping gently. Abraham had been aroused then. He couldn’t deny that. He could still remember how it felt to press himself against Dorian, the shadow of the feeling prickled between his legs. Abraham growled in frustration. He had too much time to think, and no one to talk things through with. Normally, when he had these thoughts he would find a way to distract himself, but there was nothing here but cold stone walls and a heavy silence. That wasn’t new, but he wished he had his journal, something to get his mind off things. 

He knew the answer was likely obvious. He wouldn’t be the first knight to betray his vows of chastity. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Acting on lust was the worst kept secret of the Order. Everyone knew that their knights weren’t entirely as celebate as they claimed. It didn’t always result in a loss of power, or even a demotion in rank. Abraham didn’t know what criteria the gods used to take their blessings. He’d done far less than some, after all, and had felt considerably weaker for days afterwards. Even with the unofficial permission of being forgiven for all sins, Abraham had never taken it as a chance to betray his vows. He’d always known with certainty that he would lose everything he’d fought for if he crossed that line. 

Abraham hissed in pain as he got to his feet. He stretched with a small groan before he started moving through a few simple drills. It felt good to move at least, even if he couldn’t get out. He hoped the movement would knock some of his thoughts loose. 

Dorian had been trying to seduce him this whole time. Even from the start, every look, every touch had dripped with offering. He was sure if he was willing, Dorian would have had him in bed the first night they’d traveled together. The thought made his stomach twist into knots. He didn’t understand how the man could be so free with his affection. Could it really be that simple? He doubted they actually had to sleep together, but the thought that someone might  _ think _ that they had turned his stomach. He’d been so careful his whole life. Would the offering of something as simple and basic as sex be enough to turn his back on the life he’d built?

Abraham moved through the stances, feeling his muscles stretch. It wasn’t much of a challenge without his sword, but it was enough to help his thoughts flow a little freer. He didn’t think that was enough in reality, but he was sure he and Dorian could make a convincing show of it. If people thought he’d been seduced just enough that he was willing to play along… it would get him out of this cell at least. 

Was it even safe for him to leave this cell? 

Once he was out in the public eye, it meant he would have to be impossibly careful. Dorian was very tight-lipped about his part in this plan of his except that he was supposed to make the final blow. Everything between was so nebulous that he felt like an idiot for not forcing more information out of him. The anxiety of having to play his part in front of others, of worrying that the slightest wrong movement might put himself in danger, was almost overwhelming. 

He forced himself to breathe through it. At least out there he could get more information. If Dorian hadn’t been lying about the access he could have to the court as a whole, he could get information that he could take back to Tinian with him. It would be worth it if a full-scale war did break out between their people. 

The peace talks were months away at best. The last he’d heard of them, both sides were arguing about where to hold them. Every noble in Tinian wanted to be involved, and it was making a mess of things. He always hated the bureaucracy and the delicate dance of politics. He liked when things were straightforward, go here, kill this thing, and be done. He’d never been good at navigating even the simplest of interactions. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d willingly stepped into a spider’s web. It was probably for the best, considering Dorian’s concerns about the Queen, but he couldn’t help but worry about it all the same. 

Gritting his teeth, Abraham pushed himself through his exercises, feeling his joints start to loosen. He was still working out when his food was delivered. Abraham ran a hand over his face, wiping the sweat from his brow. He recognized the woman who set the tray down. She was the same person who always dropped off his meals, her gaze always lowered, her blonde hair pin straight and tied back from her face in two long tails giving him a look at her wary expression. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly drew him towards her. She reminded him of a porcelain doll, her tiny features and slight frame made him want to protect her. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, as he had every day. She watched him, her lips turned down in the corners. Every muscle in her body tensed. He didn’t expect an answer, but he wanted someone to talk to. “My name is Abraham.” He hoped that by staying away from the bars, it would convince her that he wasn’t a threat. She seemed terrified of him, really, and he wondered if she was one of Dorian’s household.

“...Loranna.” 

“Loranna,” He said carefully. She seemed likely to bolt at any second, “Well, thank you for this.” he nodded towards the tray. “I appreciate it.” He stepped towards it, and watched in dismay as she bolted, looking every bit like a terrified blonde rabbit. He sighed, scratching his beard. He didn’t understand why she was afraid of him. It was yet another question for Dorian if the man ever returned. 

He picked at his food. Even the most simple dishes were so rich. The stew today was made with a heavy cream that never failed to upset his stomach. The bread, at least, was good, so long as he ate it without the jam so sweet that it made his teeth ache. He chewed on a crust thoughtfully, letting his mind spiral out again. Dorian had asked him once if he’d wanted to be a knight. He’d said no then, though he couldn’t imagine himself doing anything else. There was nothing he was good at. He wasn’t particularly intelligent or academic. He’d learned to read and write as a child, but other than reading books to pass the time, he had no hobbies, no ambitions. His position as a vampire hunter, and by extension his faith, was his life. The thought of turning against it left him feeling unmoored even if it was only for show.

Still… if anyone could get him to turn his back on his life, it was Dorian. Hadn’t he been the one to say that he was good at getting people to work against their own self interests? If Abraham didn’t go along with his games, what would become of him? What would become of his people? He groaned, tossing the bread back on the tray. He knew what they had to do.

***

The next few days had been more difficult than he had expected. Dorian had been delighted by his idea, surprised perhaps that it was he that suggested it, but delighted all the same. In the early evenings, Dorian reviewed his manners. He coached him on how to act, explaining that he didn’t want him to appear too docile, in case people got the wrong impression, though Abraham wasn’t even sure he knew what impression he was talking about. 

The rest of the time was spent putting things into motion.

It was easier than he’d expected to channel his frustration. He’d never been one for needless aggression. There were those in his line of work that relished the hunt, that bathed in the thrill of their kills long after they’d stopped. They were often the ones that went mad, that were transferred to the border or kept far away from the public eye, less they bismerch the reputation of the church. Abraham had always been careful. He walked the knife-edge, always careful to keep his anger under control. It felt good to let it out. 

The first time he caused a problem was when Loranna brought him food. He rushed towards the bars, reaching out to grab her arm and pull her forward. 

“Where is Dorian?” He’d growled. 

She’d looked panicked at his aggression, and Abraham’s guilt had tasted like ash on his tongue. She squeaked in pain and surprise, twisting out of his grip and overturning his meal. Abraham let her go, his voice ringing loud and deep as he demanded to know where the Prince was. 

It wasn’t until after she’d done that he settled, breathing hard as he stared in the direction of the door, waiting for Dorian to arrive. 

The prince never came, and he clung to that anger, letting the seed of being slighted build within him. 

The next night the sound of voices drifted from the room beyond. He heard the tinkle of Dorian’s laughter, and Abraham called out for him. He screamed himself hoarse, satisfied only when the sound of conversation was replaced by the sharp click of footsteps. 

“First, you harm my servants - a gift from my dear brother I might add - and now you interrupt a  _ very _ important meeting. Do you really want my attention so badly, Ser Radcliff?” 

Dorian’s eyes glittered with promise. His shirt was halfway unlaced, exposing the pale skin of his neck. He stepped towards the cell with a grin that would have turned Abraham’s blood to ice. “How about this, if you’re good, once I’m finished here, I’ll come back for you.” 

Abraham had tried not to listen after he’d gone back, but Dorian had left the door open and the sounds and sighs dug themselves into his memory. He tried not to imagine Dorian, or what he must look like to be making those sounds.

The next day, Abraham truly tried to fight. He was taken to the bath’s daily, excessive in his opinion, but the hot water helped warm him. Dorian didn’t seem to need to be there every time, and he channeled that, demanding to know where the Prince was. He was attended to by human servants, but there always seemed to be a vampire lingering about, keeping an eye on him in case he caused too much trouble. Abraham made a point of struggling. He cursed, threw himself at his captors, demanding to speak to Dorian, to know why he’d been lied to. More than once, he’d brought his magic to bear, the flickering flame of it a shadow of its former self. Abraham bolted, tearing through the hallways.

He heard Dorian before he saw him. There was anger in his expression unlike anything Abraham had seen before. He was dressed more finely than he normally did. His shirt was collared, buttoned up his throat instead of laced. Abraham wondered just what he’d interrupted. “Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped, advancing on Abraham. The knight swung. He wasn’t helpless without his weapons. He’d always been fast, always been strong, but he hadn’t anticipated that Dorian might be more skilled than he gave him credit for. The man brushed aside his blow and slipped easily into his guard. Dorian dug his fingers into a spot in his ribs that sent pain aching through his lungs. Abraham doubled over in pain, and Dorian took the chance to slam him against the wall.

“If you missed me so badly, Ser Radcliff, you could have just said something. We got so close on the road.” He slipped his hand down the back of his neck, tipping Abraham’s head down so he could meet his gaze. 

Abraham was struck by him. He had thought this would be easy, that the hardest part would be getting past his own discomfort, but he found himself drawn in. Heat blossomed in his stomach as he stared into Dorian’s dark eyes. The way emotion flickered in their depths was captivating. Usually they showed some sort of boredom, but now he saw amusement and a desire. Dorian’s eyes widened, his head half turning to look down the hallway. “Shit…” He hissed. There was a look of panic on his face. Abraham gasped, and Dorian pulled him down further, his fingers digging into the back of his neck. “Kiss me.” 

Abraham recoiled slightly. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Dorian kissed like he did everything else, confidently and with precision. Abraham tried to keep up, but the gap in their experience was far wider than he’d realized. The stone was cold against his back, bleeding through the material of his shirt. He felt it press against the bare skin of his lower back, Dorian’s hands lukewarm points of contact as one slipped between the layers of his clothes, touching his bare skin. 

Abraham pulled back from the kiss with a groan. He turned his head, looking down the empty hallway. His eyes traced a pattern in a tapestry. The muscles of his stomach tightened as Dorian dragged his nails along the skin. “What…?” He said. His voice already sounded wrecked, strained as he reached up to grip Dorian’s upper arms. 

_ “Do you really want my attention so badly, Ser Radcliff.” _

Even now the words sent a shiver through him, some dark part of him relishing those words.

The vampire smiled up at him, looking every bit the predator Abraham knew him to be. “Why?” He purred, his hands slid higher, a reminder of the night in the farmhouse, but this time, there was no threat of pain to stop him. “You asked for this, did you not?” Dorian hooked his fingers under his chin, twisting his head so that he was looking at him again. “You wanted to  _ see _ me. Have I been neglecting you?” He pressed another kiss to the corner of Abraham’s mouth, tongue tracing over the skin. “You called out to me so nicely. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

Abraham swallowed down the sound that threatened to escape his lips. “I just…” He squeezed his arms tighter, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer. The heat in Dorian’s eyes overwhelmed him, it stroked at something in him that he hadn’t wanted to think about, and that he wasn’t sure was entirely real. 

This was part of the game, a tool for Dorian to use to prove that his pet knight was on a leash, and a way for Abraham to escape the boredom of being in a cell. The thought was like being doused in cold water.

Abraham pulled back and Dorian let him. He looked up at him, his dark lashes fringing his eyes, making them look wider. Abraham opened his mouth, his words sticking on his tongue. “Are you really that easy?” Dorian asked, the hand on the back of his neck cradled the back of his head. “Is this really all you want? You don’t have to fight so hard. Do you remember? That night in the farmhouse?” Fingers withdrew from under his shirt and Dorian pulled gently, “Down.” 

Abraham didn’t mean to drop so quickly. His knees felt unhinged. This was getting out of hand. It was going too far. Dorian’s expression betrayed his surprise, and he reached out carefully, brushing his fingers through Abraham’s hair. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I feel as if I say that to you so often.” 

“What’s going on here?” A cold, deep voice echoed through the hall. 

Abraham blinked, leaning away from Dorian’s touch. The first thing he noticed about Prince Victor was that he was everything Dorian was not. He was tall, his shoulders wide, and his hair the color of freshly polished copper cropped short and close to his head. He was dressed in the same dark colors that Dorian wore, but the cut was looser, more relaxed. It made his freckles look even paler as he drew closer. 

“I’m busy, brother dear.” Dorian said, not looking away from Abraham’s face. “Just trying to figure out why my dear sweet knight keeps throwing a fit.” 

“I’d heard he was trying to escape.” Victor looked them over with an appraising gaze. Abraham was so used to seeing Dorian’s cold stare that he was shocked to find that the prince was warmer. There was a tightness around his mouth, a concern in his eyes that left him feeling off kilter.

“Hardly,” Dorian replied. He pulled back, but kept one hand pressed to the back of Abraham’s head as if to hold him there. “He was just trying to get my attention.”

“He shouldn’t be here in the first place.” Victor responded, “You of all people should know that we have laws in place to prevent exactly this sort of thing. Let him up.”

Dorian hummed in thought, “I’m just trying to tame him, besides, he went to his knees willingly.” Abraham could taste magic like bitterness on the back of his throat. He blinked, trying to clear his head. “He’s agreed to play nice.” 

Abraham saw the look of disgust on the Prince’s face, followed quickly by concern. “I wonder if he would say the same.  _ Tell me, does my brother truly have you cowed. _ ” 

The pain was sharp and immediate, lancing through his chest as if he’d just been stabbed. He’d expected this. Dorian had warned him that Prince Victor’s magic ran a bit different than most of his kin. The words hit him like a compulsion, his mind going blank, prying the answer from his unwilling throat. “No.” He said honestly, and there was the tiniest hit of tension in Dorian’s touch. His throat tried to close around his voice, a strangled gasp pulling from him. The words were like ants under his skin. They squirmed under the surface, threatening to break free. Abraham made a thin sound of pain, and Dorian’s fingers tightened their grip, as if trying to bring him back to himself. “But I want to be.” 

Victor’s brows drew together in confusion. “So you say.” 

“As you can see, I have this under control.” Dorian replied. He was looking down at Abraham, a confused, searching look on his face. 

“Clearly, I’m sure mother will be delighted to hear.” 

“I’m only glad you’re here so I don’t have to tell her myself.” Dorian replied, not looking away from Abraham, “Now, if you will excuse us.” He offered Abraham his hand, and the knight let himself be pulled to his feet. Dorian took his arm and guided him down the hall. 

“What-”

“Not yet.” he said softly. His shoulders tensed like he wanted to look behind him, but he continued to prod Abraham forward, his footsteps loud in the empty hall. He didn’t relax until they reached his rooms. He dropped Abraham’s arm like it burned him, stepping back with a wary look in the knight’s direction. 

Abraham could only stare at him, trying to clear the fog from his brain. Dorian stared at him for several seconds, as if waiting for something.

“You’re not angry.” Dorian said carefully, his brows drawn together in confusion.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling.” Abraham admitted. He felt scoured out. Whatever Victor had done to him left him lightstruck. He felt suddenly very tired. 

“Abraham.” Dorian’s expression was concerned. Had he been saying something? Abraham’s mind felt scattered. “Try to focus. It’s all right. You did very well with my brother. I hadn’t expected he would be the one to come ruin your little escape attempt. I don’t know how you managed to resist his compulsions. ‘But I want to be’ was a nice touch.” 

Abraham blinked, dragging his focus back to Dorian.  _ I didn’t. _ The words stuck on his tongue. He hadn’t been able to resist. A chill pulsed through him. “Right, well… you said to play along, so I thought…” 

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head. “You did well, Abraham. I’m sorry for the sudden kiss. I… didn’t want to risk him stepping in.” 

Abraham nodded. He wanted to reach up and touch his lips, but his hands seemed glued to his sides. “I’m sure that would have been far less pleasant.” Dorian grinned at him, and Abraham realized too late what he’d said. “Not that it was pleasant.” 

“No?” The vampire stepped forward, into Abraham’s personal space, but he didn’t touch him, “I must have imagined you leaning in then.”

Abraham’s cheeks flushed. The spark of anger he’d held onto flared to life, “Was it enough?” 

Dorian’s smile faded, and he pressed his lips together. “It will take me a day or so to confirm, but… I see no reason why you have to stay in the workshop.” He thought for a moment. Stepping back, Dorian held out his hand. “Come with me.” 

Abraham didn’t take his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to, but Dorian seemed unphased as he led him through his rooms. The soft, cream and blue decor continued throughout the series of rooms. Abraham hadn’t realized he had so much space. They passed the bedroom - the door to the workshop further in was closed - and into a small parlor. Abraham saw what looked like an office, though with the shelves stacked with books it could have been a small library. Tucked in the furthest corner of Dorian’s quarters was a second bedroom. It was smaller than the first, and looked strangely clinical. 

The large bed tucked against the far wall was perfectly made with far too many pillows spilling across it. The furniture had the look of something that hadn’t been touched by anything but a dusting cloth in ages. The bookshelf was empty, and Abraham would guess that the closet likely was to. Despite the fact that it was larger than his rooms in the monastery, the air felt stale and still. It was the lack of windows, he realized with a sense of dread. He hadn’t seen the sky in at least a week.

Dorian was watching him, the look on his face one of concern. “You mean you had two bedrooms and you had me staying in a tiny cell.” Abraham managed, but his words didn’t have the bite he wanted them to.

“This is the room for my pet.” Dorian explained simply. Abraham could hear the hesitation in his voice, “If I kept one. It hasn’t been used in…” he shook his head, “some time, but it’s yours for now.” 

“It’s very close to yours.” 

“That’s kind of the point.” Dorian replied, smiling as Abraham flushed again. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat, I do have to smooth some things over. You interrupted a very important meeting.”

“Like the one you had last night.” Abraham asked. His voice was harsher than he wanted it to be.

Dorian didn’t miss a beat. “No, it’s not nearly as fun. Take some time to explore, you’re welcome in any of my rooms, but I would advise against leaving them without me. You wouldn’t get far, and it would mean I might actually have to punish you.” 

Abraham glared at him. “So you’re just moving me from one cage to another then.” 

“At least this one has a proper bed. Don’t look so put out. You’ll be able to accompany me soon. It wouldn’t do for you to be wandering about while you’re ‘recovering’.”

“Recovering from what?” 

“From what the court thinks I’m doing to you now after your escape attempt.” Dorian’s expression hardened. For a moment, Abraham felt the burst of fear that he’d gotten in the baths. It was the same fear he’d gotten when he’d accidentally stumbled on a bear during his travels. Every cell in his body screamed that Dorian was dangerous, despite how delicate he looked. 

“Right,” Abraham said, his tongue heavy. “Well, don’t let me keep you.” 

Dorian let out a tired sigh, and the illusion was broken, “I’ll be back tonight.” 

Abraham tried to think of something to say, but he could only watch as Dorian turned and stalked out. The moment he was alone, exhaustion closed around him. He looked around the near empty room and felt again like he was drowning. Still, he had access to Dorian’s rooms. It would be a perfect chance to explore and learn more about the man, but the weight of the night dragged him down. After stripping off his clothes and starting a fire in the small fireplace, Abraham crawled into the bed. He tossed several of the pillows onto the floor, and let his mind drift.   


The tingle of the kiss still lingered on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! The next chapter (maybe the next few chapters) will be in Dorian's POV and will hopefully move the plot forward. I had a very solid idea of a handful of scenes (including the big climatic ending) but turns out some of the connecting bits are a little hazy, so we'll figure it out as we go!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and as always, feel free to comment. I love talking with everyone about the story!
> 
> You can follow me for story updates at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian strikes a deal and Abraham goes along with it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading so far! This one is a lot longer than I expected it to be, just under 8k words. It does have Abraham being uncomfortable with something that is almost sexual and also Dorian watching. I'm throwing in dubious consent simply because Abraham clearly doesn't really want to do this despite the fact that he did consent
> 
> Tags for this chapter: Biting, Voyeurism, Dubious Consent

The whispers of the palace had always worked in his favor. 

In the years he’d spent vying for favor from the courts, he learned how rumors spread. As a chambermaid, gossip had been his greatest weapon. He’d plucked choice pieces of information from the things he overheard and twisted them into the steps that would take him to his goal. As a pet, he’d been praised for his willingness to listen. His masters had enjoyed having someone pretty and unassuming that they could send to others, only for him to return with information. Much of what he knew he held onto, using it for his own benefit, twisting the rumors into whatever he needed to be at the time.

Dorian frowned, his hands moving mechanically as he set to work cleaning his chambers. He liked the time alone, and this way, he could ensure that no one went snooping through his things.

Dorian found it easy to spread the word that Abraham was, if nothing else, subdued. He hadn’t expected Prince Victor to be the one to come to stop Abraham’s little escape attempt. He’d thought the prince would be busy that night while he met with the master of coin on the Queen’s behalf. He hadn’t wanted him to see the two of them together until things had gone much further, but Abraham had performed admirably. He’d been soft and pliant. He’d even been able to resist Victor’s damned compulsions enough to give a somewhat decent answer. It was, perhaps, too good of an answer, really. He’d seemed too restrained, too cowed. Dorian would have to work this to his advantage. Abraham was a danger to the court after all. He had divine magic, and a faith in the gods that was unmatched. Poor Prince Dorian was woefully out of practice with taming a stubborn foe. Fifty years was a long time to be away from Aberon. 

Dorian scowled, glaring down at the boots he was polishing. He didn’t like seeming weak, but perhaps it would give him an in to offer Abraham to someone else, a political rival… perhaps eventually even Prince Victor himself. He’d seen Abraham fight. If anyone could shut Victor up, it was him.

There were a lot of things that surprised him about his surrogate brother since returning.

Dorian shoved his feet into his boots, admiring the shine. He could hear Abraham in the other room, the sound of turning pages whispering into the air every few minutes. He wondered what he was reading. Abraham had gone snooping through his things, as he’d known he would. He wondered if his companion had found his weapons already. Dorian hadn’t taken particular care to hide them, knowing that Abraham would likely want them back. He knew he could just give them to him, but it was far more fun to see just how far he was willing to dig. 

They hadn’t spoken since their kiss, and Dorian was fine with that. He’d learned the hard way, the dangers of pushing Abraham too far. He’d expected him to fight back, he’d even been prepared to be burned with that divine light he was so fond of summoning, but instead, Abraham had leaned into the kiss, albeit only for a moment. He’d gone to his knees almost eagerly.

_ But I want to be… _

Dorian’s heart ached at those words. He let himself imagine what it would be like if such a thing were true. He hadn’t kept a pet since well before he’d even left the court. He let himself imagine if Abraham was someone who was vying for his favor. He’d seen that lost, sweet look in his eyes in the farmhouse when he’d taught him to kneel. He’d wanted to dig into it, to push harder and see just how far that submission could go. His fingers twitched with the ghost of Abraham’s skin under his hands. He liked touching him more than he would ever admit. He could feel the firm arch of his cheekbone under his thumb. He wondered if Abraham would groan like he did when Dorian bit him. The soft, needy sound would slip from him as Dorian’s hands moved upwards, gently tracing the soft skin under his eyes.

The memory of his fingers sticky with hot blood was like falling into a frozen lake. He could almost hear the cries of pain, a deep voice cracking in agony while Dorian watched, his expression cold and indifferent.  _ Merrick _ . The guilt threatened to choke him, heat prickling down his back, making him shiver.

Dorian shook his head. He wiped his hands on his pants as if that could get rid of the feeling. Taking a deep breath, he stepped towards the pet’s room. He didn’t know who had cleaned it out. He hadn’t touched it even before he left, but he was glad for it. He didn’t know if he could handle cleaning it himself.

He steeled himself as he knocked firmly on the door, listening for the sound of Abraham moving about. It took him several seconds, but Dorian fixed a smile on his face as the door finally opened a crack. Abraham looked down at him, something wary lurking in his expression. It took Dorian far more effort than he cared to admit not to pry into his mind. He’d promised that he wouldn’t, and he meant it. 

“Can I help you?” Abraham asked. He gripped the doorframe a little too tightly. If Dorian didn’t know any better, he would have said he was afraid. 

“Yes, actually. I have a meeting with the Prime Minister’s son in an hour. I was hoping you might join me.” 

Abraham blinked at him, and Dorian bit his tongue, letting the silence grow between them. 

“Why?” 

“Because, it’s as I told you when we were traveling. I like having someone who can pay attention and might see something that I miss.”

“And you’re confident that I can do that?” Abraham sounded doubtful, but he opened the door a little wider, arms crossed over his chest.

“You wouldn’t be my first choice, no, but if memory serves, you did agree to help.” 

The silence was longer this time. Dorian waited, fighting the urge to interrupt his thoughts. “What will you need me to do?” He asked finally. The wariness was back. If Dorian didn’t know better, he would have said Abraham was afraid of him. 

“Sit at my feet with that grumpy expression you love so much.” Dorian grinned, “Watch Lord Rayland closely and if you’re feeling  _ really _ adventurous, you could do something to convince him that you only listen to me.” Abraham scowled at him, and Dorian couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, that expression is perfect. Come now, you’re the one that wanted out of your cage. I can promise this will be far more entertaining than sitting here reading,” He tried to peer around him, and Abraham stepped in his line of view. “Whatever it is you’re reading.” 

“...You know you’re being woefully vague.” 

“Aren’t I always?” Dorian grinned, “If you come, I promise that I’ll make it worth your while.” 

Abraham’s lips twitched upwards. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that Dorian felt like he could breathe. “Fine. What should I wear?”

***

The best part of returning to his homeland was the creature comforts. Dorian hadn’t realized how much he’d missed home until he returned here. There was something to be said for the things that simply did not exist or were outright outlawed in Tinian. The wine, for one, was infinitely better. On the road, he’d been served what could almost be considered a vinegar. Even the most low class of inn would be ashamed to serve such swill. Doiran nodded in thanks as a beautiful dark-haired pet poured him a glass. The taste burst across his tongue, making him hum in pleasure. 

The worst part was navigating conversations with people who knew him before his transition. It was a minefield of knowing looks and patronizing tones. Of course you are the prince, the Lord’s eyes seem to say. For that is what you say you are. Dorian didn’t shift in his seat, instead, he took another long sip from his glass and smiled.

“Truly, I will never tire of this.” He commented, crossing one leg over his knee as he looked at the man who sat across from him. 

He knew Lord Rayland quite well. The man was older than Dorian by several decades though his soft features put him in his early twenties at the time of his turning. He, like The Queen, Victor, and a handful of others in the upper crust of Aberon’s society, had been vampires even before the Queen had taken control of the country. There was a hardness in his eyes that reflected the years. If he knew anything about where they’d come from, he refused to say. 

Pale blue eyes dropped to the man at Dorian’s feet before flickering back to his face. His lips curled into a sharp smile, and Dorian dropped his hand to the top of Abraham’s head, surprised when he felt the man tip back into his touch. “You needn’t be worried, Elias. As you can see, he’s adjusting quite well.”

“I have to say, I’m quite impressed. You always did have a knack for taming even the most stubborn of men.” Abraham shifted, and Dorian caught the sight of the glare he shot the blond man. It earned him a laugh, “Though not so tame as he appears.” The suggestion hung between them, a reminder that their history was not as innocent as they pretended. 

Dorian kept his touch gentle. He palmed the back of his head before smoothing down the back of his neck in a motion that he hoped was comforting, “No, it appears I am a bit rusty. I’m hesitant to break out anything that might ruin him, in case her Majesty wishes to do so herself.” 

Elias’ eyes betrayed the surprise that didn’t register in his smile, “Surely she wouldn’t fault you for making him presentable at least.” 

“I am hesitant to do something to upset her. With how… awful I was when I left, I thought it best to take things slow.” He pushed his fingers into Abraham’s hair. He wouldn’t tell him, but he liked that it had gotten long. It felt good to run his fingers through the thick strands. 

“Has she given you any responsibility then? You were always her favorite when you were here. I had thought she would be delighted to have the chance.” 

Dorian smiled, politely. His nails scraping gently down the back of Abraham’s neck. The man shivered under the touch and he repeated the movement, “She has me acting as something of a buffer between herself and her subjects.” He paused, letting the silence stretch between them until Elias shifted in his seat, “I am surprised that she’s changed so much. I had… no idea.”

“A lot changed after you left. Her trusted advisors dwindled, you certainly caused quite the upheaval.” 

“I was afraid to come back at all.” Dorian admitted. He met Elias’ gaze, a knowing look passed between them. The Queen was different now. She was dangerous. Her impulsivity had bled to outright insanity. Elias coughed and the spell was broken.

“I’m surprised you returned so suddenly, and without a word to your dearest friend,” Elias pouted.

Dorian laughed again, letting the tension shatter in his chest. “I had always planned to. I missed home as soon as I left, but… you know as well as I that her Majesty isn’t always the most… forgiving. I was worried that she wouldn’t welcome me back. After what she did to Marcus...” he bit his lip, brow drawing together in concern. “But I would hate to speak ill of her… she was within her right, of course.” 

“Not at all.” Elias smiled. He had a nice smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. The way he looked at Dorian, he could almost believe they were best friends, “Your child and I were always close, I respect the work he was doing.” There was a small pause. “How is he? Surely the two of you caught up when you crossed the border.” 

“Not as often as you’d think. Marcus is… well. He refused to see me the first few times I visited,” Dorian rested his chin on his palm. He let the sorrow he felt about how things had ended between them show on his face, “I regret what I did, but he was my brother. I couldn’t just watch him die.” 

Elias nodded in understanding. “It’s a rare thing for families to stay together in this. You’re lucky to have him.” 

“But he’s lonely in Orlet. His work is valued less there than it is here. If he’s not careful he’ll get branded a heretic, and then he’d been drinking this  _ awful _ brew. He made it himself, saying it’s safer than feeding off of humans.” 

“That sounds terrible… Surely he’s not out there all alone.” 

“If there are other vampires in the city, they haven’t contacted him. He mentioned no companions besides that.” Dorian shrugged.

“Has he not thought of trying to return? Surely you can work your magic and help ease the way.” 

“I don’t know if he wants to. He misses the comforts of home, but he seems to enjoy being away from court. I don’t think he ever liked it here.” Dorian looked down at Abraham, his eyes roaming over his face as if they held the answer. Abraham was looking back at him, naked confusion on his face. He didn’t understand how he could be so earnest.

“Well, perhaps I can speak to my mother. She is less of a traditionalist than her Majesty. If he does not feel comfortable returning home, then perhaps we can bring him some comforts. He is one of our own.” 

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze snapping to Elias, “That is… far too kind of you. I would appreciate it, of course, but I have nothing to offer in return.” 

“Access to the royal library would be more than sufficient,” Elias’ smile sharpened, and the trap sprang shut, “Provided, of course, you still have permission.”

Dorian picked up his wine glass, staring at the deep red liquid with a small frown, “Her Majesty has been hesitant to allow me back into the fold, so I make no promises, but I will put in a word for you.” 

“That is unfortunate, you were always her favorite.” Elias repeated.

“Was, I suppose is the best word,” Dorian replied, his expression was sad, “Though I think it is for the best.” 

“Is that so?” 

Dorian only hummed in response, “Perhaps you could tell me what book you’re looking for. That might be easier to acquire.”

“It’s for a private matter, I’m sure you understand.”

“Then I’m not sure I can help you.” Dorian uncrossed his legs, careful not to accidentally kick Abraham.

“I’d also take a night with your pet here.” His smile widened, and Dorian felt Abraham stiffen against his leg. “Is it true that his blood tingles when you drink it? It’s so difficult to catch his sort alive.” 

Dorian looked down at Abraham, sure he would speak up for himself, but he said nothing. He didn’t try to rise either, as Dorian had expected of him, but he did lift his chin, his deep brown eyes sparking with anger.

Dorian rested his hand on the back of Abraham’s head. He traced the shell of his ear with one sharp nail, “I can’t promise a full night, but a feeding perhaps.” Abraham stiffened, and Dorian gently palmed the back of his neck again, “Though I’d rather not put him through undue strain. He’s been very polite lately. It’s only fair that I am as well.” 

He could see the surprise on the lord’s face, and Dorian relished it. Let him see this. Once upon a time he would not have been so kind if his pet had looked so rude. The feeling of blood on his hands returned, and he let the memory of screams of pain cut into him. 

“Then the library then. You can send word once I have access.”

“Of course.” Dorian inclined his head. He stood when Elias did, offering him his hand. Grasping his forearm he pulled him in to gently kiss his cheek. “It really was great to see you again. It’s been a long time, Eli, and I’m glad I still have friends in this place.” 

Elias looked at him in shock, and the tension in Dorian’s chest unraveled when he smiled. He let him reach up and cup his cheek, turning his face into the touch. His skin crawled, “It’s good to see you as well. Let’s not make it another fifty years before we speak.” 

Dorian closed his hand over Elias’ and gently removed it. “Of course. I’ll let you know as soon as you have access to the library.” He walked him to the door after that, waiting several seconds before he let out the breath he’d been holding. 

Dorian scratched at his cheek as if he could claw the feeling out of his skin. He turned back to Abraham. The man had gotten off the floor, and he didn’t blame him. Still, Dorian couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He made such a pretty picture on his knees. He watched him stretch and walk around, not really looking at anything. 

Dorian wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but thought better of it. It would be easier if he could hear his thoughts, but he didn’t want to push. Abraham had set his boundaries. 

Instead he went about sending word to the Queen, requesting an audience with her yet again while he waited for his next guest.

***

Three days after his meeting with Elias and the Queen still had not gotten back to him. He didn’t like that. He knew from some of the servants he’d befriended that Victor was still seeing her daily, which meant that she either hadn’t gotten his request or she was choosing to ignore him. It seemed that after their initial nights together, she was content to pretend that Dorian didn’t exist.

He kept himself busy, mastering the anxiety that tightened in his stomach. It wouldn’t do for him to panic at the slightest setback. He’d been in this position before. He would find a way out of it. All the while, he and Abraham did the awkward dance of sharing a space. 

It didn’t help that Abraham was avoiding him. He seemed confident enough to wander the rooms, but always seemed to be getting ready to leave when Dorian entered. It would have been effective if Dorian’s space was more generous. As it was right now, it was hard for him to have any privacy. More than once he’d come into the main parlor to find Abraham with his feet up, staring at nothing in particular. He always seemed a little surprise to see Dorian in those moments and made a hasty retreat to his own room. 

_ Maybe he’s thinking about the kiss. Or maybe he’s just being broody. _ Dorian scowled at the thought, tapping the end of his pen on the desk as he watched Abraham hurry past his office with only the slightest glance in his direction. It wasn’t like him to be so concerned for someone like Abraham. If he was thinking about the kiss, it wasn’t likely to be anything positive. The feeling of his lips on Abraham’s followed him throughout his days. He could still feel the way Abraham had gripped his arms, so sure he was going to be pushed away but instead he’d leaned in. 

Dorian pressed his fingers over his eyes. He didn’t want to think about this. It would only lead to temptation. Everything was safer if he and Abraham kept things distant. Dorian was still trying to establish himself in court, and he wasn’t sure who was an enemy and who was an ally. He wouldn’t have Abraham get hurt because of him. 

Still… there were things that needed to be done.

Pulling himself up from his seat, he picked his way over to Abraham’s room, knocking gently. He held his breath and once again, Abraham opened his door a crack, frowning down at him.

“What do you think of Lord Rayland?” 

“Am I meant to have an opinion?” Abraham never missed a beat. Dorian would assume he could read minds with how easily he followed him. The door opened a bit wider and Dorian stepped inside.

Dorian blinked at him, waiting while Abraham collected his thoughts. The room had been changed around since he’d been in there last. The bed had been shifted against the far wall, and a small sitting area was made by the fire. A cup of tea sat cooling on a low table. Dorian crossed the room, scooping up the book Abraham had been reading. It was a history of magical theory. It was far more advanced that he expected from the man.

“Is he really your best friend?” Abraham asked finally. Taking the book back and sliding a slip of paper in between the pages. 

“He thinks he is.” 

“Maybe friendships are different here, but he doesn’t think highly of you.” 

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up, “No?” He folded himself carefully into the seat furthest from the fire, motioning for Abraham to sit.

“No. He doesn’t like you very much.” 

He was right, of course. There was tension between them since Dorian had been turned, and it had only been worsened after he’d turned Marcus. He was almost positive that the man felt that he’d taken something from him. “He and Marcus were close, but I suspect he liked him far better when he was human. Something about a delicate flower being so beautiful because it would die,” Dorian waved his hand absently. “What do you propose we do about his offer?” 

“Why are you asking my opinion?” Abraham snapped, but… he did sit, crossing one leg over the other. “What does this have to do with anything?” 

“It helps my brother. No matter how angry Marcus is at me, he deserves better than what he has. And if it helps him with his research...” He trailed off, letting Abraham fill in the blanks.

Abraham’s expression softened, and Dorian wondered just what his feelings were towards his brother. Their conversation had been brief, but it must have left more of an impression than he’d thought. “Are you really in that much trouble with the Queen?” 

Dorian thought for a moment. He didn’t like the thread of worry in Abraham’s voice. He stared into the fire, fingers tapping an absent rhythm on his knee, “Hardly. She’s upset with me, but that’s not anything new.”

“I thought you were her favorite,” a ghost of a smile turned up the corners of Abraham’s lips.

“So everyone says… Once upon a time, perhaps, but it turns out when you speak out against her for the better part of a century you don’t make many allies.” 

He saw the conflict on Abraham’s face. The man opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling with his words. 

“Yes?” Dorian pressed.

“Is it really so hard to get him access to the library?” 

“The Queen is very protective of her private collection. Not even Prince Victor can get in there without reason.” Abraham opened his mouth and Dorian shook his heads, “She has text that is said to date back to the dawn of humanity. Books on the origins of both our species. To be allowed access if a privilege few can earn.” 

“Did you earn it?”

Dorian said nothing, his nails scraping along the arm of the chair. 

“Would it…” Abraham scowled. He looked around the room, and Dorian waited, a tension building in his stomach. “Is there something I can do to help?” 

“Do you… want to help?” Dorian couldn’t hide his surprise.

“I’m willing to help your brother, and you said yourself that you need allies. It’s clear your influence on the Queen isn’t as strong as you thought.” 

“Ah…” Dorian told himself that he wasn’t disappointed. He hated that Abraham was right. “Well, if you’re willing to open a vein for him, I’m sure that would go a long way.” 

Abraham closed his eyes. His lips pressed together in a thin line. He expected Abraham’s firm denial. He expected anger or frustration or any number of things. Instead Abraham looked thoughtful, running his hand absently over his throat. “Will you be there?” 

“Of course. It’s rude to feed on someone without their master there.”

Abraham’s expression didn’t change, he dropped his hand to his side, “Then I’ll do it.” 

***

Dorian arranged the meeting in something of a daze. He sent word to the Rayland estate, inviting Elias to the palace for dinner that night. Abraham, for his part, seemed to have gone back to avoiding him. He hadn’t left his room except to collect the tray with his dinner, and left it outside the door for someone else to pick up.

Dorian wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to do this, but he didn’t want to risk him changing his mind. Abraham was an adult, and was able to make his own decisions. Still, he found himself wanting to dig his nails into him and find out what had changed. He wanted to rip into his mind and uncover what he was thinking, but he was a man of his word. He’d told Abraham that he wouldn’t, and he’d meant it. 

It was late in the evening when he finally knocked on his door, turning the small box he carried over in his hands. Abraham answered with a look of trepidation. Perhaps he was more nervous than he’d let on. Dorian let his gaze sweep over him, “Is that what you’re wearing?” 

Abraham frowned down at his clothes, “Yes?” He dressed as he so often did. His shirt was loose and open at the throat, his pants a rich, dark fabric. He wore no shoes, but instead had thick socks to keep his feet warm.

“Were new clothes not delivered?” Dorian asked. He tossed the box onto the bed, his brows drawing together in confusion. He pushed his way past Abraham into his room. Over the past few days he’d added a few personal touches. The shelves were no longer empty, but instead had a handful of books that Dorian recognized from his own collection. Several of the pillows were missing from the bed, but there was a thick quilt in bright, garish colors that clashed with the softer blues and creams of the decor. Dorian was pleased to see that Abraham  _ had _ found his things, the glittering blade he carried leaning against the wall by the closet. His armor took up much of the space inside it and Dorian worked around it, pulling down several articles of clothing and tossing them in the direction of the bed. 

Dorian kept his back turned towards Abraham when he heard him let out a tired sigh, listening to the sounds of him shedding his clothes. He waited until he cleared his throat to turn around. Dorian blinked at him, his gaze sweeping down his body. He didn’t know how Abraham could clean up so well. He’d seen him dressed in the high collar and tight laces of Aberon’s nobility, looking stiff and uncomfortable, but there was something to be said for the softer silks. The shirt was a deep shade of blue that complimented him, open at the chest to reveal dark hair. 

Abraham scowled at him, holding up the box. “It’s the bracelet,” Dorian answered his unasked question. “It would be strange if you didn’t wear it.” He stepped closer, taking the box from him. With careful fingers, he unclasped the latch and opened it. “Technically it’s my crest and not the Queens but as things are right now it’s safer than nothing.” Abraham looked down at it. He offered up his wrist, and Dorian bit his tongue in frustration. He didn’t understand how he could be so quiet. “I feel like I should apologize to you.” Dorian said softly.

“You haven’t done anything I haven’t expected.” 

Dorian didn’t like that answer. He gently took his wrist in his hand, sliding the bracelet in place. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty about it.” Abraham flexed his hand in Dorian’s grip, and the vampire glanced up at him. “Say something please.” 

“What do you want me to say?”

“You know you don’t have to do this. It’s not too late. I wouldn’t… ask this of you. After how you reacted the first time, I know it’s a boundary I don’t want to cross.” He searched his face, his fingers tightening on his wrist. “You only have to wear this for tonight if it bothers you so much.” 

“I’m nervous,” Abraham replied, “I want to help. If this gets you closer to… your goal, then I want to help.” 

Dorian wanted to argue, but he swallowed the words. “Well, you certainly look the part of the reluctant pet.” he reached up to brush a lock of hair from his face but Abraham caught his wrist. He released it only after he stepped out of arm's length. Guilt clawed up his throat, even though Abraham had been the one to suggest this. He didn’t try to touch him again. Instead Dorian took a step back. “I’ll let you know when he arrives.” 

“I think that would be best.” 

“You don’t have to do this,” he repeated.

“I know.” 

_ Do you? _ Dorian couldn’t bring himself to ask. Abraham had made his decision. Taking a deep breath, Dorian turned and walked out of the room. He closed the door softly behind him, standing there for several seconds. He wanted to go back in. Abraham was likely as anxious as he was, but there was little comfort he could give.

_ Selfish _ . A voice hissed in his ear. It sounded distinctly like Marcus. It had been easier to bear when it had been true. A lot of things had been easier to weather before Merrick. Dorian forced himself to sit, and scooped up a discarded book. He stared blankly at a paragraph, tapping his bookmark on the armrest of the chair. He’d anticipated coming home would drag up all sorts of feelings he’d rather ignore, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad. 

“My prince?” Dorian blinked, glancing up at the servant who’d entered. Another loan from Victor, she was dressed finer than most others. She bowed politely, just as deep and respectfully as was expected from someone addressing a prince. “Pardon my interruption but Lord Rayland has arrived. I have set him up in the parlor.” 

“Thank you,” Dorian said. He knew it was the cowards way out, but he added, “Fetch Abraham for me. Have him brought to the parlor.” 

She bowed as Dorian stepped past her. His smile was fixed in place as he crossed the threshold.

Elias rose from his seat, stepping towards Dorian with a warm smile. “I’m surprised you got back to me so quickly. I had assumed when I left earlier I wouldn’t hear from you for a week at least.”

Dorian took his offered hand. Elias brought it to his lips rather than shaking it. “I had assumed so as well, but it turns out I’m not quite as rusty as I’d thought. Abraham can be very compliant when he wants to be.” 

“Of course. I suppose if anyone can bring him to heel it’s you.”

Dorian offered him a sharp smile, “I’m glad my reputation still precedes me.” 

“There were others that tried to use your methods after you left, but they never had the same sense of art to it. Have you thought about getting back into training? I have a few specific things I want from my next pet.” 

Dorian laughed, “I don’t often take on two projects at once. Perhaps once things are a little more settled, and - ah.” He turned to look at Abraham as the man entered. “And here is the man of the evening.” He held out his hand, and he was surprised when Abraham took it. His skin felt cool, almost clammy. Dorian’s expression didn’t change, but he squeezed Abraham’s hand as he drew him forward. It took a simple motion to urge him to his knees. “What was I saying? Ah, yes, perhaps I’ll start taking on clients when things are more settled. With the peace talks looming overhead, it’s difficult to think of anything else.” 

“But of course.” Elias’ eyes dropped to Abraham. He didn’t shift at Dorian’s feet, but he could feel the tension singing through him. He reached down, gently brushing his fingers down the back of Abraham’s neck. He frowned when he flinched. “So, what can you tell me about him?” 

“He’s easily spooked,” Dorian said. He was trying to decide if his touch was a comfort or not. He settled for not, but he did slide his foot up to press gently against Abraham’s side, “And he can be a bit… combative when he’s afraid. Unfortunately he still has much of his power.” Abraham froze, and Dorian pressed his toe more firmly against his hip. He hoped that was true. “But, once you get your teeth in him, he’s so sweet.” 

Elias’ lips curled into a grin, revealing sharp, white teeth. “Come here.” he cooed, becoming with long fingers. 

Dorian’s stomach was in knots as Abraham got to his feet. It was a little clumsy, but certainly better than his first attempts. Dorian wondered if he’d been practicing. The thought made him press his legs together. He watched as Abraham crossed the two steps between them, standing obediently in front of Elias. 

“Well, aren’t you something?” Elias said. He reached out as if to touch him, and Abraham stepped back. “Will he be accompanying you to the ball at week’s end? Surely it would be the perfect time to showcase your talents.” 

Dorian shrugged noncommittally, “Only if he can behave.” In truth, he hadn’t brought up the ball to Abraham yet. The Queen wanted to hold one for his return, and Dorian was more than a little relieved for it. It meant - in public at least - that she was willing to acknowledge her youngest son. It meant he had an in, a way to reforge the alliances he’d lost when he’d left.

Elias reached again for Abraham, and the man’s neck tightened like he wanted to look at Dorian.

Pressing his lips together, Dorian suppressed a smile. He knew he shouldn’t be so pleased, but it was a relief to see that flare of resistance. Getting to his feet, Dorian relished the way Abraham half turned at the sound of his heels clicking on the polished floor. He wound his arms around him from behind. He stood stiff, tense even though Dorian kept the touch platonic. He touched only his arms, his sides, his hands, but pressing his ear to Abraham back he could hear how his heart raced. He was far more nervous than he’d let on.

_ Abraham you don’t have to do this. _ The words never made it to his lips. Instead, he slid his hands up his chest. “It’s alright my dear knight. I’m right here.” He gave him what he hoped was an encouraging squeeze. “Relax _ ,  _ Abraham.” Dorian felt the words move through his body. Abraham’s muscles unlocked one by one, “There you are… it’s no different from the first time.” Dorian’s throat tightened as he ran soothing hands down his sides. He didn’t want this to be easy. He wanted more fight from him. 

Glancing around Abraham’s shoulder, he saw Elias lift his eyebrows. “Very impressive, Dorian.”

Dorian repeated the slow movements down Abraham’s sides. “He doesn’t take nearly as much as you would think to settle. I suspect it’s easier for him than most. He’s used to being under the thumb of his gods.” Abraham half turned to glare at him, and Dorian only smiled. “Now, down.” He gently pressed on his shoulder. 

Abraham went to his knees much slower than he had in the hallway, but he went. Dorian dropped his hands to Abraham’s hair, tracing the shell of his ear and down the side of his neck. He could feel his pulse fluttering under his skin like a trapped thing. Despite himself heat spread under his skin and his mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth into him. 

Elias shifted forward in his seat, his legs spread slightly as he moved closer to Abraham. The knight tensed again, and Dorian stepped into his line of sight. Abraham’s eyes immediately shot to Dorian’s face. The look in his eyes was almost enough to make him call the whole thing off. Almost. 

Elias leaned over him, resting a cool hand on the back of Abraham’s neck. “Watch me.” Dorian mouthed as Abraham let himself be drawn forward. His hands came up, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Dorian could almost see the pulse jumping in Abraham’s throat as Elias leaned in. Without the lord to see it, there was fear in his eyes, more than Dorian had thought possible. He opened his mouth to put a stop to it, but his lips closed on a syllable that didn’t quite make it to a sentence. 

He saw it on Abraham’s face the moment Elias bit down. Dorian had never gotten to see his expression during the bite. Pain bloomed across his features, his brown eyes squeezing shut and his lips falling open in a silent gasp. Dorian told himself that he didn’t enjoy that expression. He told himself that it wasn’t intoxicating to watch as confusion and then pleasure passed through Abraham’s eyes. He told himself that he didn’t like seeing Abraham struggle to contain the delicious noises that danced on his tongue. 

He was a changed man, he told himself. Those things didn’t excite him. 

All the while, Abraham kept his eyes locked on Dorian’s. The prince stepped forward, and almost imperceptibly, Abraham shifted his hand further up the armrest, towards Dorian. He stepped closer still. Resting a hand on Elias’ shoulder, he used the movement to lace their fingers. Dorian squeezed gently and Abraham’s mouth fell open around a moan. The sound sent a shiver through him. For one breathless moment, he looked into his eyes and felt something building in his chest. 

And then the moment snapped when Elias released him.

Abraham sagged forward when Elias pulled away, his hair falling in front of his face. Dorian wanted to see his expression, but he forced himself to let go of his hand, stepping carefully around the chair to press his fingers to Abraham’s throat. He could smell his blood, a smear of it left along the perfect indent of teeth. His heartbeat was steady, if a little rapid. Fear perhaps - Dorian’s gaze dropped between Abraham’s legs - or arousal.

Elias hummed in thought, “Divine… if a little disappointing. I’d heard their blood is electric. I’d hoped but I never quite believed it.” He dabbed at his lips, “Delicious all the same, I suppose.” 

Abraham’s head bowed forward. Dorian knew he was revealing too much. He knelt beside Abraham, brushing his fingers gently through his hair. “You did very well.” he praised. There was a sweet, lost expression on Abraham’s face that made Dorian’s heart ache with an emotion he didn’t want to name. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Abraham didn’t lean in, but he lifted a hand to lay it on Dorian’s shoulder.

Dorian gently urged Abraham to stand. “I’m glad you found him at least serviceable.” He didn’t mean for his words to come out so sharp, but Elias’ eyes widened slightly. A fine tremor had started in Abraham’s limbs and Dorian ran a hand down his back. He couldn’t help himself from peeking. Abraham’s mind was a swirl of nothingness, his thoughts scattered and half-formed. “Allow me to get him to bed and settled and we can continue our conversation.” 

He didn’t wait for Elias’ consent before he started guiding him towards his room. Dorian waited until the door was closed behind him before he let out a shaking breath. “Abraham I need you to tell me you’re alright.” Dorian let guided Abraham to the edge of the bed. His eyes were focused off to the side. “Abe…” Dorian combed his fingers through his hair, encouraging him to look up at him. “You did wonderfully. I can use this. It helped.” He bit his lip when Abraham said nothing. “I’m…. going to go back out there, but I’ll be back as quickly as I can be.” He needed to spin this. Perhaps, he could get more than just help from his brother from this man. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. Dorian straightened, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Dorian returned to the parlor with a smile on his face, “I apologize. Abraham is always a bit out of it after feeding. Where were we?” He settled back in his seat and for the next hour, the two of them talked. Elias was in a much warmer mood towards him, and in the end, agreed to not only have materials and an assistant sent to Marcus, but also invited himself and Abraham to a meal with his family. After all, with the winter holidays coming up, it would be a great honor if the Prince were to join them.

Dorian waited until he’d left before he ordered a servant to have food and hot water brought to them. He swallowed hard as he made his way to Abraham’s room, reaching out to touch his thoughts. They were only slightly less disjointed than they’d been before. He didn’t bother to knock. Relief flooded him when he saw that Abraham was not sitting where he’d left him at least. 

His clothes were tossed over the back of a chair, and he was curled up under the ugly quilt. He looked up when Dorian entered, deep brown eyes focusing on him. “I’m sorry for intruding.” he said, settling the tray down on the nightstand, “I just thought…” he shook his head. “I know that tea and sugar helps. I didn’t want you to be alone after what happened.” The truth burned like poison in his mouth. Abraham deserved at least a little honesty after what he did.

Dorian busied himself with making the tea he’d given Abraham before. He heard the sound of movement as the man sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders to reveal bare skin. “Drink.” Dorian said, pushing the cup into his hands. 

“Did it work?” Abraham’s voice was rough, thick with exhaustion.

“It did.” Dorian eyed Abraham until he took a sip of the tea. He turned back to the tray, loading a plate with delicate looking sweets. “He’s agreed to not only help my brother but we’ve been invited to attend a feast at their estate for Grandeur.”

He saw Abraham stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Something sad and pained crossed his face. Dorian hadn’t really considered that the winter holiday would be a point of tension for him. He knew that it was a religious holiday to many, but he didn’t know the particulars of the celebration. When he turned back to Abraham he looked wery. “I assume we’ll be attending?” He said, balancing the plate on his lap.

“We will… or at the very least I will. Feasts at the Rayland estate are legendary. It will be the perfect opportunity to reconnect with some of my old allies… as well as a few of the Queen’s generals.” The Prime Minister’s husband was a military man. It would give Dorian a chance to worm his way into that sphere. If he could get the military on his side, it would go a long way to ousting the Queen.

Araham carefully took another sip of his tea, the cup clattering on the saucer as he set it on the nightstand. Dorian was relieved when he started to nibble on one of the cookies, though he couldn’t help but smile at the face he made at it. His gaze dropped to his bare chest, and he was surprised at how unselfconscious the knight was about it. Scars stood pale against the deep tan of his skin. The echo of heat bloomed in his stomach. He couldn’t get the look in his eyes out of his mind, the way his face had twisted with desperation. 

For a moment, Dorian let himself imagine that this was a normal relationship, that he could crawl into bed with him, drag his fingers through his hair and feel him melt under his touch. He imagined what it would be like to touch him. He could press him down to the bed and straddle his hips, feel him hard and wanting... 

Abraham caught him staring, pulling the blanket over his shoulders again.

Dorian closed his eyes and turned away, banishing the thought from his mind. While he ate, Dorian set to work picking up his clothes. It kept his eyes from wandering. He didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable. “Why did you do it?” he asked as casually as he could manage. “You surprised me today. I never would have asked that of you.” 

“I wanted to help.” 

“Yes, that’s what you said before, but I fail to see why.” 

Abraham’s sigh was a heavy, tired thing. “It’s not as if I can use my… expertise here, but I’m not made for lounging around your rooms.” 

Dorian grimaced as he carefully hung the shirt. Abraham had complained that he was only being moved to a larger cage. Of course he would be bored. Even Dorian, who had spent his entire life dreaming of a life of luxury, had realized it was unbearably dull after the first few weeks.

“I want out,” Abraham continued. “You want my help and I want to give it. If that means playing nice then so be it.”

Dorian closed his eyes, his expression smoothing over as he turned back to Abraham. “You’re taking this far better than I thought you would… all things considered.” Abraham looked away, his fingers tightening on the cup. Or perhaps he wasn’t nearly as steady as he seemed. “I will see what I can do about getting you access to the grounds.” He hesitated, wishing that there was some comfort he could give. Crossing the room, he gently lifted Abraham’s wrist from his lap, turning it over so that he could unclasp the cuff there. He let his thumb linger, nails trace gently over the delicate skin. He felt Abraham’s stiffen, but his eyes had gone distant again, his hand relaxed in his grip. “For now, you should rest.”

Abraham blinked, and pulled his hand away. Dorian let him. “I think you should go.” 

Dorian nodded. He didn’t want to leave him to recover by himself, not when he looked so strained. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.” He bowed his head slightly as he backed out and closed the door behind him. He forced his feet forward, unable to shake the feeling that he’d done something very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Turns out the next one is going to be Abe's POV because I was just going to keep rolling with Dorian but there's some things that hit different with Abe. 
> 
> I told my wife about the ending of this book and she had a lot of feelings about it. It's certainly going to be a fun one.
> 
> As always feel free to comment so I know what you guys think! I love engaging with my readers!
> 
> You can follow me for story updates at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags this Chapter: Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's add my favorite thing to this story as we start digging into Dorian's backstory: hurt/comfort! As always thank you all so much for reading, it brings me so much joy. This one does talk about some heavy topics, but not in explicit details, if you're sensitive to the added tags, proceed carefully or sit this one out

Abraham wished he could sleep. Exhaustion dragged at him as he tried to drift off but no position was comfortable. He felt weak, shaky though Dorian’s friend hadn’t taken much. He’d poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher that had been left behind, the coolness of it running down his throat and settling in his stomach like a chip of ice. If he strained his ears he could hear Dorian settling into bed a few rooms over. The click of his boots were loud, until they finally stopped all together. 

Abraham’s heart beat too hard in his chest. He didn’t want to see Dorian right now. He didn’t think he could handle it. After days of being ignored, letting boredom gnaw at him, he’d been desperate to do  _ something _ to help. He’d thought it would be easier, to open a vein and give Lord Rayland what he wanted. Dorian would get what he wanted, and Abraham would hopefully take a step towards earning a modicum of freedom. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d come here, but this was not it.

He was so tired in a way that didn’t seem to have a name. He spent much of his days sleeping, and if not that then he wandered the same three rooms, even venturing as far as the workshop and Dorian’s office two areas that had seemed off limits, despite the fact that there was no hard rule in place. 

Abraham rolled over, his hip aching as he sank deeper into the plush bed. He stared at his sword laying against the wall, just within arm’s reach. There wasn’t enough room to use it for drills, but he felt better having it. He managed to drift off as his mind spiraled deeper and deeper into worry. His dreams were half-formed things, filled with sharp teeth and holy fire.

It was late morning when he blinked into the darkness of his room. That was the worst part. There were no windows in these inner rooms - or any of the rooms he’d been in. He didn’t doubt it was intentional but it made the air feel stiff and stagnant. It left him unable to know if it was day or night. Abraham reached out to touch the lamp at his bedside. He felt like something was tugging at his chest, a sharp dragging thing as he tried to summon the magic to light the wick. He gasped, imagining searing flames, golden light, warmth. He imagined the lantern lit, and after a long painful moment it sputtered to life, a soft magelight glowing in the dome.

He tried to repeat it with the larger lanterns overhead, but to middling success. The effort left him with a pounding headache and a sense of loss so strong that he almost crumbled under the weight. In the end, Abraham stood in a half-lit room, feeling as if a great weight were pressing down on him.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Abraham picked about the room, changing into one of the many, many loose fitting outfits Dorian had made for him. He knew little about Aberonian fashion, but pets, it seemed, wore loose fitting clothes, thick fabrics to fight the cold but that could be easily removed if needed. There were buttons on his clothes rather than laces. He would have thought that it was to make them stand out more against the vampires, but Dorian was one of the few that dressed in high collars and tight laces. Every immortal showed far more skin than the cold climate would allow. In that, he was a little jealous. 

Looking around his room, Abraham let out a soft sigh. He knew he should eat, but food here was always a bit of a danger when it came to eating. No matter how often he asked, the food was always too rich. It was overseasoned at best, and at worst it was laden with so much cream or cheese that he struggled to keep from throwing it back up. His last request for some plain oatmeal had been met with a mush cooked in milk and so sweet that his teeth ached. 

Still… he knew he needed to eat something.

Abraham made his way to the parlor, touching the small stone embedded in the wall by the door. He ordered his breakfast quickly before plopping down on one of the many overstuffed chairs the room boasted. He was surprised just how spacious Dorian’s rooms were. The main parlor led smoothly into Dorian’s office and bedroom, with the workshop beyond that. It gave the room a feeling of being closer to an apartment than simple palital rooms. They were also extremely private - set at the end of a long hallway where the only people who would walk down it were here to see the prince.

Abraham wondered if that was on purpose. Dorian had said that he had enemies in court, but he seemed to come and go as he pleased. Glancing in the direction of Dorian’s bedroom, the door was open, and if Abraham leaned back he could see the shape of him under the blankets. He wasn’t worried about waking him. Dorian always slept deeply. 

He let his mind drift off into nothing while he waited for his meal, his eyes tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. He started at the sound of the bed creaking, followed by a long, low sound. Abraham’s head shot towards Dorian’s room. It wasn’t like him to be a restless sleeper. He’d had a few days where he’d made a sound in his sleep on the road but those were few and far between. Abraham bit his lip, unsure if he should try to wake him. He didn’t have the best track record with that. 

Dorian made another sound of pain, flinging himself to the side. He’d lifted his hands to his throat, clawing at the scar there. Abraham cursed under his breath, and hurried to his side. “Dorian…” He said, laying a hand on his shoulder. The light from the parlor cast his face into harsh lines, his dark lashes casting shadows over his pale cheeks. “Dorian.” Abraham laid a hand on his shoulder and shook gently. Dorian groaned louder, one hand reaching out to claw at Abraham’s hand. His nails bit hard into his wrist, almost hard enough to draw blood.

Behind him there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of footsteps. “A-Abraham… I brought breakfast.” Loranna’s voice was soft. She stood in the doorway, watching them with wide eyes. 

Abraham cursed, “Set it on the parlor and leave please. Now.” He added when she hesitated. Turning back to Dorian. “Dorian, wake up.” His face was a mask of pain, eyes moving far too fast under his eyelids. Abraham squeezed his shoulder tighter, letting heat and divine light flood his palm. Dorian hissed in pain, his dark eyes wild as they flew open. 

Abraham had just enough time to step out of the way as the man’s claws swung towards his face. “Don’t  _ touch _ me.” Dorian snarled, heat and anger replacing any fear he might have felt.

“I-I’m sorry.” Abraham, taking another step back. “You were hurting yourself. I needed to wake you up.” 

Dorian blinked at him. His dark curls were tangled, their length making him look softer than he was. He seemed to register that it was Abraham there, his expression smoothing out. “No, I’m sorry.” his gaze dropped to Abraham’s wrist where he’d drawn blood. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Good dreams. You know how they can be. You can return to your room.” 

“You can’t tell me that was a good dream.” Abraham replied. He didn’t step forward, “And before you try to brush this aside, need I remind you that my safety depends on you.”

The man blinked at him, surprise registering in his face. It felt like Abraham was filled with emotion for the first time since arriving here. He clung to it, breathing hard, “It’s nothing that concerns you.” 

Abraham shook his head, “It does.” Dorian looked vulnerable, his lips pressed together in a thin line, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No. Do you?” 

Abraham gritted his teeth. He hated this part of him, how combative he could be. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. Besides, who else do you have?” Dorian’s eyes widened, and Abraham shook his head again. “I’m going out to the parlor. You’re welcome to join me.” He snapped before turning on heel and leaving Dorian alone.

He glared at the covered tray, lifting it to reveal another bowl of oats, drowned in milk and covered in dried fruit. Abraham scowled at the bowl, trying to decide if the stomachache was worth eating. He heard the sound of soft, bare feet behind him, and Dorian cleared his throat. “Were you serious about me joining you?” 

Abraham half turned. In the light, the man looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. He had a shawl wrapped around his shoulders, his face red with the indent of the pillow. “I was, though this is your palace. I doubt I could stop you.” 

Dorian frowned. He folded himself into the couch across from Abraham. It was the same one Elias had sat in the night before. Abraham banished the thought from his head, “Do you really think so low of me?” 

“You haven’t exactly been the most respectful of my comfort before. Why should that start now?” 

“Haven’t I?” Dorian asked, “I thought I’ve been quite tame.” 

Abraham shook his head. Of course Dorian didn’t see it. “Maybe by your standards…” he grumbled, dragging the bowl towards him. He picked up the spoon, stirring the thick mush with a frown. Dorian was quiet, his expression far off. “Are you… all right?”

Dorian blinked at him, his lips twitching downwards. 

“What… were you dreaming about? It sounded… painful.” 

“Nothing as serious as you’re probably thinking.”

That didn’t mean it wasn’t serious. Abraham took a tiny bite of the oatmeal, barely suppressing a grimace as he forced himself to swallow. The silence stretched between them filled only with the sound of their breathing. 

“Did you know I was sixteen when we came here?” Dorian’s voice was careful. His gaze was distant, as if he were trying to see a point behind Abraham.

“I… did.” He said slowly, “Your brother told me.” Dorian looked older, closer to thirty than sixteen. He had to have spent at least a decade working in the palace.

Dorian’s eyes focused on him, and he gave him a sardonic smile, “Of course he did. It was just the three of us here for a long time. Marcus was… perhaps twenty at the time, and Ally - Alissa,” he shot Abraham a look who only nodded for him to continue. Marcus had mentioned a sister as well, “Was younger… Six? Maybe on the cusp of seven.” 

Abraham’s eyebrows shot up. “I had assumed…” He couldn’t imagine being a seven year old watching everything you knew crumble. 

“Marcus and I practically raised her,” there was a hint of pride in his voice, “Once she was old enough, of course, she was able to start working with me as a chambermaid, but for those first few years…” Dorian shrugged, “We made do. Marcus was in the stables and hated it, I was mostly straightening bedchambers.” 

“Was it… so bad?” 

“Oh no,” Dorian rolled his eyes. He drew his leg up on the couch, resting his chin on his knee. It was a habit that Abraham knew meant Dorian was uncomfortable, “I loved getting up at mid-day and working until sunrise the next morning.” He droned, “It was wonderful. The best part was when people didn’t realize they had to keep their hands to themselves.” 

Abraham’s frowned, “I don’t-” the look Dorian gave him told him that he was missing something. “Oh… You mean… I’m sorry, if I had known you were dreaming about-” 

“Don’t give me that look. Besides, it was nothing so traumatic. I never did anything that I didn’t want to. No one was ever violent or forceful. Some groping perhaps, but honestly that was better than some of the girls got.” Abraham’s expression hadn’t changed, and Dorian sighed, “I’m serious. I never did anything I didn’t want to. Besides, it’s hard to convince yourself that virtue is worth it when the fastest way to a comfortable life is between your legs.” 

Abraham’s stomach turned at the thought, “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.” 

Dorian’s lips thinned, “Well, someone had to. Marcus certainly wasn’t and Ally was too young.” He snapped, giving Abraham a look of hatred that made him want to whither, “I refused to be emptying chamber pots for the rest of my life and it turns out the nobility are quite agreeable when you have their cock in your mouth.” 

“Dorian.” 

“You asked. I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” 

Abraham took a deep breath. He’d heard these things before. He’d served in the cathedral as an acolyte and listened to confessions, but it was different, coming from someone he was… if not friends with, at least had a connection to. He was surprised to find that he was angry, angry on Dorian’s behalf, that he’d felt like he’d had to do something like that to survive. “So that’s what you were dreaming about?” 

Dorian’s smile was full of fang, his dark eyes glittering. It reflected the anger that Abraham felt, “No, if that was the worst of it, then I dare say I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep.” 

“Does it have to do with the scar on your back?” He’d asked that before, in the early days, and Dorian had shut him down without much preamble. He’d only seen Dorian nude briefly, but he knew he had two scars. One on his neck - the origin was obvious - and a larger one on his back. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it then, but he knew a thing or two about large injuries.

Dorian looked less withdrawn than he had the first time he’d asked. He turned his head, resting his cheek on his knee so that his hair fell to one side. He stared at the wall, looking far younger than he was. “...I suppose that’s part of it.” 

“What happened?” 

“Suffice to say there are many ways someone can use a body.” 

Abraham’s blew out a heavy breath, “Do you want to-”

“No I do not.” Dorian’s tone was sharp. The air felt thick with some emotion that Abraham had no name for. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispered. His eyes burned. He didn’t know why he was on the verge of tears. He didn’t know why it cut so deep, but he swallowed, pressing a hand to his face. Abraham wanted to offer him something. If he’d been in Turncliff, and someone had come to him, he would have offered prayer and solace. He would have given him the blessing of the gods and then reported whoever had hurt him to the authorities so that they could be brought to justice. Even if he wasn’t sure Dorian would burst into flames if a prayer fell from his lips, he doubted it would be welcome.

“You’re…? Abraham you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry it happened!” he snapped, “I’m sorry you… felt you had to…” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. What else could he say? Nothing would make this better. A choked sob slipped from him, and Abraham pressed his hand more firmly against his face, hot tears like burns on his cheeks. 

The silence was just as heavy as it had been before. It pressed down on him, heavier than even the exhaustion that threatened to tear him apart. When he looked at Dorian, the man was watching him, a look of naked shock on his face. Behind that was something unbearably sad. “Abraham…” 

Dorian lowered his foot to the floor. His bare feet made no sound as he shifted forward. He reached across the small space and grabbed Abraham’s hand, gently pulling it from his face. “Are you…? Oh you soft-hearted idiot. Please don’t cry for me.” He squeezed Abraham’s wrist. “You’ll ruin your stoic image. Don’t you know that image is everything.” He smiled at his own joke, and Abraham shot him a glare.

“Don’t patronize me.” 

“I’m not. I find it endearing.” Dorian smiled, and Abraham wondered how much of it was a mask. “Does anyone else know you’ve got a soft heart or is it just me? Please tell me it is. Lie to me if you must.” 

Abraham glared at him again, saying nothing. He didn’t like where this conversation had gone. He forced himself to pick up his bowl again. He knew he needed to eat and he didn’t think he could handle being teased by Dorian right now. The oats had already gone cold and sticky. Abraham coked down another bite, and Dorian frowned at him. 

“Are you not hungry?” 

“I’m not now.” Abraham countered, gagging as he tried to swallow another bite of congealed mush.

“The servants have said that you’re barely eating - present conversation excluded.” 

Abraham shrugged. Now didn’t feel like the time to complain about the food.

“Come on, Ser Radcliff. If you don’t want me commenting on how  _ soft _ you are, distract me. You brought this all up.” 

Abraham sighed, setting the bowl aside, “The food is too rich…” He grumbled.

“Pardon?” 

“The food, it’s too rich. Too nice. Too… something. It upsets my stomach.”

Dorian’s brows drew together. “Ah… well… that’s an easy fix. You can request something else. No one would bat an eye.” 

“I’ve  _ tried. _ ” Abraham snapped. His nerves felt frayed, exposed. Between the heavy weight of captivity and everything Dorian had just told him about this place, he felt like someone had rubbed him raw. “If I could make my own meals this wouldn’t be a problem, but-”

“You’re stuck here.” Dorian finished for him. 

“ _ Yes. _ ” 

Dorian frowned at him. He got up, crossing the room to touch the stone panel on the wall. He spoke into it quickly and quietly, returning to the couch when he’d finished. Abraham stared at him in confusion, but he shook his head, holding up a finger for him to wait. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and another servant entered. The man quickly cleared the first try, taking the bowl from Abraham’s hands before setting up another. 

Dorian waited until he’d gone before he lifted the dome off of it. “Eggs, a bit of meat and some bread. Jam if you’d like it, but it’s not required.” Dorian gave him an expectant look, “I paid attention when we were on the road. That’s your preference, right? I hadn’t realized that the food would be too much from you. It’s been… a long time since I’ve eaten.” 

Abraham shook his head, “You didn’t have to. I would have eaten it.” 

“Are you really worried about wasting food? It’s on the Palance’s coin. Besides, I can’t have you feeling sick for no reason.” 

“I…” Abraham pulled the plate towards him, his stomach gurgling loudly at the smell, “Thank you?”

Dorian crossed his legs again. He looked the picture of composure. It would have been convincing if Abraham couldn’t see the strain around his eyes, and the way his fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against his knee. Abraham looked down at his plate. He ate quietly. He’d never been good at this sort of thing. He felt like someone had raked hot coals down his chest. Was the person that hurt Dorian still alive? It was likely if they were a vampire. Did he still have to do business with them? The thought made his stomach turn. He didn’t know why he was so protective of him. Dorian was a grown man, he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Still… it hurt like a bruise spreading deep under the skin to think of him so helpless. 

Abraham glanced up. Dorian was looking at nothing, his dark eyes focused on the middle distance, lips parted, brows drawn together. Swallowing hard, Abraham set aside his plate and stood. He crossed the two steps between them, and Dorian’s gaze snapped towards him. Jumpy? He’d never seen Dorian jumpy before. 

Letting out a shaking breath, he sank into the spot beside him, close enough that a deep breath would bring them together. 

“What are you doing?” Dorian’s voice was tinged with amusement but underneath that was confusion and concern. 

“I want… to help.” Abraham bit his lip. He felt silly. This was ridiculous. 

Dorian stared at him. Abraham couldn’t read his expression. HE moved very slowly, not touching Dorian but laying his arm over the back of the couch in silent offering. Dorian looked at him like he’d grown a second head and Abraham flushed a deep scarlet. He started to stand but Dorian’s hand shot out, pressing him back down. 

“Stay.” He said softly. There was another long pause before finally, with impossible slowness, Dorian shifted closer, and settled in the crook of his arm.

Abraham’s eyes flew open when Dorian finally shifted, tipping his head back so that it rested perfectly in the hollow of his shoulder.. He drew in a sharp breath, hand lifting though he was unsure if he was allowed to touch.

With gentle fingers Dorian took hold of his hand, guiding them so that they were wrapped loosely around his middle. He made his message clear: only touch where he put him. Abraham looked down at the top of Dorian’s head, his heart beating too hard in his chest. In the silence that stretched between them, Dorian relaxed in increments. Abraham could feel muscles unlocking as he relaxed against him. He was warmer than he’d expected, or maybe he was just getting used to that strange, lukewarm heat that radiated off of him. He was certainly warmer than he had been on the road. Abraham realized with some guilt that that was because he was feeding regularly. His protests at the beginning of their journey seemed so far away now. 

“It really wasn’t so bad.” Dorian whispered, interrupting his thoughts. Abraham could smell the spicy scent of his soap, his dark hair falling over his shoulders. Dorian seemed content to lean against his chest, one hand dropping to Abraham’s thigh to gently touch. It wasn’t sensual, wasn’t trying to seduce him, it was just a point of contact that made his breath shake in his lungs. “I meant what I said, I really didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. Now… I might not have been completely aware of just how… intense certain things would be, but…” Dorian shook his head, “I never did anything I didn’t want to.” 

A protest bubbled on his lips. He shouldn’t have had to make that choice, no one should. If he’d known Dorian back then, would he have been able to do something to help? They stayed like that for a long time. Abraham marvelled at how easy it was to touch him. He kept his arm still, hand curled loosely on Dorian’s side. He liked the way he fit against him, the thought sending a flush through him. Dorian tipped his head back, his head nearly tucked under Abraham’s chin as he looked up at him. 

Abraham met his gaze, and his heart slowed. This felt… familiar. The guilt and shame he carried with him when he felt close to Dorian was suspiciously quiet right now. The man shifted in his lap, half turning so he could look at him fully. 

“Abe…” Dorian’s voice was soft. The nickname sounded so sweet on his lips. Abraham didn’t move, didn’t reach out for him, but Dorian did. He shifted so that he was facing Abraham, nearly straddling his lap. Dorian touched his cheek, each finger a hot brand of contact, drawing his focus to him. His hand fell into his lap when Dorian shifted closer, his fingers sliding to cup the back of Abraham’s neck. He didn’t know who moved first, but their faces drew closer, Dorian’s breath ghosting over his face. There was heat in his eyes, a warmth that settled like a hot coal in his stomach. Dorian’s expression was searching, questioning as he leaned closer. Abraham realized with a shock that he was giving him a chance to pull away. He didn’t want to. There was no one else here. This wasn’t for show, or for power. Dorian wanted to kiss him and Abraham… Abraham wanted-

A knock on the door shattered the moment. 

Dorian’s hiss of frustration was far more feral than Abrham thought him capable of. Before he could tell the person to leave, the door clicked open, and Prince Victor stood there, his eyes moving over the pair with cold contemplation. “Apologies. Am I interrupting something?” 

“You are, actually.” Dorian’s cold expression had returned. He settled easily in Abraham’s lap, wrapping his other arm around his neck. “I was just about to give this one a reward for doing so well. He fed Elias, I’m sure you heard about it.” 

Victor’s expression was cold, a look of disgust on his face so strong that Abraham flinched. 

“Come now, Vicky.” Dorian smiled at his brother over Abraham’s shoulder. “Don’t be jealous. I’m sure I could arrange something for you.” Dorian’s fingers tangled in Abraham’s hair, drawing a hiss of pain from him as he jerked his head back, bearing his throat. He learned forward, licking a long stripe across the bruised skin.

Heat spiraled into Abraham’s stomach despite the ache. 

“I would hardly call this jealousy.” Victor replied, his eyes going to Abraham’s face. “You’re hurting him.” 

“I can assure you, he likes being hurt.” Dorian’s grip tightened, thigh squeezing on either side of Abraham’s hips. He wanted to shake his head in denial, but his face flushed when Dorian deliberately pressed down against his half-hard cock. “See?” 

Victor’s expression pinched further. “Must you always be so forward?” 

“Perhaps if you learned to wait until invited in, you wouldn’t have to see such things.” Dorian countered. Abraham lifted his hands, resting them on Dorian’s upper arms as if he wanted to push him away. In response, Dorian’s grip loosened slightly, and he shifted in his lap, so that their bodies weren’t pressed together so tightly.

Victor’s smile wouldn’t have been out of place at a party, full of warmth and companionship. “And here I thought that you would want to know right away that our mother wishes to see you. I must be mistaken. I’ll tell her you’re busy. I’m sure she’ll take kindly to that.” 

Dorian froze on top of him. “And you didn’t think to lead with that?” He shifted off Abraham’s lap entirely, pulling the shawl tighter around his shoulders. 

“You seemed busy.” Victor shrugged, turning away with a wave. “I’ll let her know you’ll be late.” 

“There’s no need for that. I’ll be on my way shortly.” 

“No, no, don’t hurry on our account. I’m sure it’s fine that we wait for you.” 

Dorian opened his mouth to call after him, but Victor had already left. He swore loudly, scrambling to his feet and taking great strides towards the bedroom. Abraham followed after him, a knot forming in his stomach. 

“What was that?” He asked watching as Dorian tore through his closet, pulling down various items. 

“My dear brother isn’t fond of me, obviously.” Dorian left the sentence hanging, and Abraham got the feeling that it ran deeper than that.

He watched as Dorian threw off his shawl and stripped himself of his shirt. Abraham turned his back, but not before seeing him wiggle into what looked like a tight undershirt with a bit of difficulty. “Why?” 

“I really don’t have the hours it would take to explain.” Dorian snapped. Gone was the vulnerable man Abraham had been speaking to before. There was no softness in Dorian’s expression when he finally turned around. He looked cold and hard, his dark eyes glittering as he pulled on his boots, lacing them with practiced efficiency. “You will stay here while I’m away.”

“As if I have another choice.” Abraham snipped, earning himself a cold, calculating look.

“I can assure you that you have the better arrangement of the two of us. You will wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

Abraham watched as he pulled his long hair back, securing it with a dark red ribbon. He wanted to catch Dorian’s arm, to ask him what exactly was wrong. He felt the buzz in the air, reminding him so much of how he felt before a hunt. Dorian only gave him one, quick look before he strode out of the room, leaving Abraham once again in the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I think the next one will probably be a pretty tense one strictly because of the... dynamic between the Queen and Dorian. It will probably come on Sunday like usual, I don't anticipate there being any delay. 
> 
> Honestly, I'm really loving this story. I'm enjoying putting it together, and can't wait to see it through. I also essentially plan to be a romance author that does like... typical romance tropes but with an ftm twist. I'm hoping to seek out traditional publishing and who knows, maybe an edited version of this will be my debut *shrugs*. That won't come for a while yet, though, I want to finish it on here and then worry about editing. 
> 
> You can follow me for story updates at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief meeting between Dorian and the Queen
> 
> New tags: Deadname Mention, Deadnaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this week because of the holidays and I work retail. Ya boy's exhausted. I hope everyone had a safe, happy, and healthy holiday regardless of what you celebrate and thank you all so so much for joining me on this adventure. It really means the world to me!

If there was one thing Dorian had learned over the years, it was that vampires were creatures of habit. When he’d been human, he’d assumed they were flexible, about to adabit and bend with the flow of time. Especially if they’d existed all this time. The Queen herself, the Prime Minister, even Victor were all far older than the hundred years since they’d come out of the shadows. Surely one would think that would take a certain degree of flexibility, but the opposite was true. 

With every passing season, habits carved themselves deeper into their psyche, their tastes solidified, with many of them being the most stubborn and insufferable creatures to walk this earth when it came to halting advancement. Dorian liked to think he was immune to this. In many ways, it was what gave him an edge. It was easy for him to blend in, to bend himself into whatever position was needed to accomplish his goals. 

And he did so as he walked towards the Queen’s Chambers. 

Dorian could feel his back straightening, the characteristic scowl on his face that was only slightly for show. His footsteps were loud, a sharp click on the polished marble. He had an extra plate put on the heels. The sound made him feel powerful, a reminder that despite everything, he was still a Prince. He’d fought and clawed his way to his position and wouldn’t be giving it up for anyone. Despite the snaking corridors and confusing pathways, Dorian was sure he could walk the path blindfolded. 

The Queen’s Rooms were in the very center of the palace, the beating heart of her seat of power. He could taste the magic on his tongue as he got closer. Even he, who had spent the better part of half a decade trying to get close to the Queen, could not say for sure what secrets she held in her inner circle of rooms. He knew of ancient books and even older artifacts. He’d held some of them in his hands and felt their power. Dorian had never been particularly sensitive to magic - not like Marcus had - but even he was put off by the prickle along his skin. It took an effort to school his expression into a cold indifference, bordering on annoyance.

Dorian didn’t bother knocking as he strode inside. Her rooms always felt darker than the rest of the palace, though they were well lit, with a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. The flickering light had a sinister quality, as if the air itself were trying to smother it. He stepped easily into her bedroom, and bowed low - though not nearly as low as he should have. 

“Your Majesty.” He looked up at her through dark lashes, a familiar tingle moving down his spine. It was common for vampires to feel some sense of kinship to the one that made them. Whether it was a bond forged in blood and magic, or simply engaging in such an intimate act, it was impossible to escape the draw to be close to the one that made you. The bond was often familial - though there were more than a few cases of couples having an exceptionally intimate bond because of the circumstances of their transformation. Though everyone felt the draw towards the Queen, and Dorian most of all. He’d felt it in his chest like a second heartbeat, fluttering alongside his own from the moment he’d woken up into his new life. He felt it now, a warm pulse, a feeling of completeness that no one else could bring to him. Victor stood behind her. He watched Dorian with a knowing expression, eyes following his every move as he leaned against the wall.

Dorian sank slightly lower as she stepped forward. She so rarely dressed in gowns, preferring tight pants and high collared shirts with laces left open and framing a pair of perfect white breasts. She wore tall leather boots with sharp heels, and Dorian was struck by how similar they dressed, despite the fact that their coloring was so different. 

He was prepared for it when her fingers curled along, points of contact like ice on his skin. His lips parted as she encouraged his head upwards, meeting pale blue eyes framed by dark blond lashes. “Dorian, my sweet Prince. You’re late.” 

The admonishment moved like a shiver down his spine. “I’m sorry my Queen.” he said automatically. “I was… indisposed.” 

“Ah yes, with the dog you brought into my court.” Her grip tightened on his chin, jerking him forward the same moment she let him go. 

“Yes, actually.” Dorian stumbled. He smoothed his hands down his pants, and steeled himself, stepping past her to take a seat. Wine had already been poured, and he reached rudely across the table, taking the glass that was meant for her and crossing his legs. He knew better than anyone not to drink anything he didn’t watch be prepared in this place. Poison wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt enough that he wished it would. “He’s actually quite entertaining. A bit aggressive, but he melts so sweetly under the right touch.” 

Dorian met her gaze. It was bold of him. He’d always been bold around her. It was what had caught her eye in the first place, had drawn her to him. He fought his instincts to fall at her feet, to simper and scrape and bow. He was a Prince, her favorite son. He would damn well act like it.

The light in her eyes made him think he’d made the right choice. She answered his smile with one of her own, but that brought him no comfort. “Is that so?”

Dorian took a sip of the wine, rolling it on his tongue. “Surely you didn’t call me here to discuss that.” 

“And if I did?” There was a glint in her eyes as she watched him. Dorian’s stomach fluttered in a way that it hadn’t since he’d been human. He was with a predator, his every cell knew it. 

Dorian shrugged, a slow, graceful movement, “Then I would tell you what I have told everyone else. I’ve been working on him for months on the road, twisting him around my finger until he truly believes that I’m going to use him for some plot or another. I think he even believes I love him, which is cute.” 

The Queen stared at him, unblinking, her blue eyes like chips of permafrost, too light and eternally cold. He regretted sitting, feeling small as she seemed to tower over him. Dorian’s fingers tightened on his wine glass, but he forced his breathing into evenness. “Are you sure?” She asked, lips curling into a smile that reminded him that monsters were very much real. 

Dorian’s gaze flickered to Victor who stepped forward, his smile sharp. He felt cornered. “Is this an interrogation?” He asked. Dorian forced his shoulders to relax. He felt icy fingers press against his mental shields. He’d almost forgotten to keep them in place. The past half decade had left him with no need of them. If he wasn’t always a little wary where Victor was involved, he might have forgotten them all together. 

“ _ No, _ ” The Queen leaned over him, placing her hands on either side of the arm rests. She didn’t touch him, but she was too close. His back ached with a phantom pain. Her fingers were so close to the bare skin of his wrist. Dorian held his breath, let an exhale bring them together. “My sweet boy… no. I would never do that to you. You’ve never given me a reason to. I have nothing to worry about from you. Right?” She reached up, brushing the back of her hand over Dorian’s cheek. 

He flinched. He couldn’t lie to her. She would know. Every cell in his body resisted the urge to lie. His eyes once again went to Victor. “Then why is he here?” 

She looked over her shoulder as if she was just realizing that Victor was still there. “Leave!” Her tone left no room for argument. Victor’s eyes glittered with triumph, and Dorian wondered if that was what he’d wanted the whole time. Dorian opened his mouth to protest on his behalf, but the Queen was touching him again. “You didn’t answer my question my sweet.” 

Dorian settled back in his seat, none too subtly leaning away from her touch. “To my knowledge, no, I’ve never given you a reason to distrust me.” She leaned forward, planting a knee between his legs. Dorian tipped his head back, anxiety in his stomach. “Though I suppose you would be a fool to think me completely trustworthy. We didn’t part on the best terms.” Bold… he was always too bold. She brought her hands up, fingers framing his cheeks, thumbs pressing gently just under his eyes. “My Queen?” 

She pressed down harder, “You talk far too much.” 

Dorian swallowed. The last time she’d said that, it had been after he’d turned Marcus, and he’d spent days with a crushed jaw. “Last I remembered, you liked it when I spoke. Unless things have changed drastically in the past few years.” Her eyes were fever-hot. Dorian had felt a lot of things around the Queen, but fear was rarely one of them. Once upon a time, he’d known her moods, he’d been able to predict her actions. He’d been her most trusted advisor, her faithful companion, and favorite child. But now… Dorian gently closed his fingers around her wrist, squeezing gently. “Let go.” His tone was firm, the same one he’d used countless times with countless lovers.

Her answering laughter sent a sliver of ice down his spine. “My sweet boy.” Her nails scored scratches down his cheeks as she pulled away. Dorian let out a shaking breath. He couldn’t believe that had worked. Dorian shifted, a small sign of discomfort. “Are you going to tell me the truth now?” 

She hadn’t sat. Instead she leaned against the arm of her chair. Dorian drummed his fingers against his knee, a nervous gesture that he hoped seemed thoughtful. “Have I been anything but truthful to you, my Queen?” 

“You and I both know that you did not return because you missed me.” 

“But I did.” Dorian replied, “Miss you, I mean. That wasn’t a lie.” He felt it in his soul, a warmth that came from being so close to her. “I missed you every day that I was gone for fifty years.” 

She moved too fast to track, hot pain scoring across his cheek as she struck him. Her sharp nails dug furrows into his skin. Dorian hissed in pain, lifting his hand as blood flowed down his neck. The skin moved under his hand as he tried to stop the bleeding. 

A slick feeling roiled in the pit of his stomach. Dorian looked up at her with wide eyes. He felt… betrayed. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to feeling where she was involved. “My Queen?” Usually when she hurt him, he’d done something to earn it, but this felt unprovoked.

She had no way of knowing what he was planning.

“Do not lie to me, Doloris” The name was like a knife to the stomach. No one had called him that in almost a century. No one would dare.

“I have no reason to.” He said automatically. He felt a cold fear slide through him. If she did know… did suspect, then he needed to get out of here. He thought of Abraham, alone in his rooms. Had she sent Victor away to fetch him. Dorian uncrossed his legs, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to press it to his cheek. “Whatever you think you know, it simply isn’t true.” He forced his muscles to relax, letting the shock and pain play across his face. “Whatever Victor has told you-”

“Does he have something to tell me?” She demanded. Dorian knew paranoia. It had always floated on the surface. The Queen was protective of her power, almost as protective as Dorian was of his own. He remembered the years before he’d left. She’d always been so quick to put down anyone who threatened her position. At the time he’d been willing to assist her, his paranoia feeding off her own. This was different. Her eyes were fever bright. 

Dorian carefully laid a hand over hers. It felt strong, hard despite it’s delicate size. “As far as I know, he doesn’t. I haven’t been here long enough to find out.” Dorian bit his lip. With a practiced grace and a pit in his stomach, he slid out of the chair. “My Queen.” he bowed his head. He didn’t flinch when her nails scraped roughly along his scalp. “You have nothing but my undying loyalty.” His skin tingled under her touch, and he dipped his head lower in a way that he hoped didn’t seem like he was trying to escape her touch. “I’ll swear fealty again to you if it will satisfy your suspicions.” 

“Why have you come back so suddenly?” 

Dorian didn’t risk looking up, nor did he want to try to pry into her mind. He’d one it only once, and it had left him with a splitting headache. He didn’t know how close her anger and madness were. Blood still dripped from the wound on his cheek, splattering on the floor as he steadied himself. “I heard about the peace talks and was… concerned.” 

“Concerned?” Her snails scraped down the back of his neck, and Dorian wanted to laugh. Was Abraham so uncomfortable when he touched him like this? 

“Yes. When I was here last, you were adamant that peace with our neighbors was impossible.” He tipped his head upwards, dark hair spilling down his back. He was glad he’d kept it long. It made him look like less of a threat. “When I heard that you’d made such a drastic shift, I was concerned.” 

Dorian’s lips pressed together as her thumb dragged over his mouth. “What can you tell me about your knight?” 

“Your Majesty-” Dorian’s tone sharpened and her fingers tightened on his chin again, a threat. 

“You brought him here. Why?” 

“I wanted to see if he could be of use.” It wasn’t a lie.

“To you.”

“To  _ us. _ ” Dorian replied. He reached up, gently closing his fingers around her wrist as he had in the throne room, “Imagine how useful it could be, to have someone like that on our side. Someone who wields magic that we can’t, who is loyal to a fault and has the strength and ability to blend in with other humans. You cannot tell me that you haven’t had a problem with pockets of rebellion. I heard about Oakwood.” Dorian shifted, sat up straighter, “It wasn’t a rival or another vampire that did it, was it? They were planning on leaving.” He had nothing to go off of, but he prayed it was true. “Imagine if we had someone who could have gone in there instead, another human that seemed trustworthy. Things could have gone a lot differently.” 

She seemed thoughtful, head cocked to the side in a way that made him think of a blonde dog, “You bring a traitor into my court because you think he is useful?” 

“You accepted me as your own because I’m willing to do what others aren’t.” Dorian pressed against her wrist, all but prying it away from his jaw. He knew he couldn’t match her strength, but it seemed his insistence was enough. Dorian fought the urge to rub his jaw as he rose smoothly to his feet. “Now, if you’re quite finished with your tantrum, why don’t we discuss these talks, and why you’re really going through with them.” He spoke to her as he had before, with a cold indifference to her position that never failed to set him apart. Dorian saw the shadow of a smile on her face, and felt the hand around his heart unclench. 

Dorian returned to his rooms at the wee hours of the morning, his eyes feeling gritty from lack of sleep, and with no more information than he’d entered with. Still, he felt like he’d won a small victory. Dorian was surprised to see Abraham sitting in the parlor when he entered. The man said nothing, but there was a set to his jaw that made Dorian feel oddly guilty. He didn’t like guilt. It was one of the emotions he’d reconnected with during his time away from this place. 

“You’ll be attending a feast with me in three days,” he said by way of greeting, watching the surprise and anger flit across Abraham’s face, “To celebrate my return. I’m sure you’ll conduct yourself appropriately.” 

“Dorian-”  _ Are you all right _ ? The words swirled around Abraham’s mind, and he shook his head.

“I’m better than I’ve ever been. It seems my mother missed me as much as I missed her.” He lifted his fingers to his cheek. The skin was pink and raised, but it had healed for the most part. “You should get some rest. We’ll be brushing up on your etiquette tomorrow.” He added, before breezing through, leaving Abraham without another word, and with only the click of his bedroom door between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I just realized that this is going to be the last chapter of the new year. Y'all I wrote a whole ass novel in the last quarter of 2020. I guess things weren't all bad. 
> 
> The Pet is shaping up to be significantly longer than the Knight. though I suspect once I start editing (and rewriting) bits of the first book, it'll end up just as long!
> 
> If you want updates on that and all the projects I'm working on you can follow me at robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> and @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> I'm also always open to talk about these characters or my work, so feel free to drop me a comment here or a message on any of my other social media. My DMs are always open!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham and Dorian go to a party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!
> 
> No new tags for this chapter though there is some non-explicit descriptions of sex acts. As always, thank you to everyone who reads and comments on this fic. Thank you to people who share it with others and who overall support my work. It means so much to me. This is already bigger than I could have thought possible. Really, thank you, y'all made the last quarter of 2020 wonderful

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. Abraham felt the buzz in the air, the clash of voices drunk on wine and conversation. It scraped at him. Dragging like claws against something fleshy and exposed. He kept his eyes on the back of the prince’s head, turning his focus onto his own breathing, rather than those who watched them. Dorian seemed content, basking in the warm glow of light as his list of titles were read off. The entire hall seemed to be watching them, the air thick with it. Dorian for his part, looked every bit the prince he was.

His long dark curls were loose, falling over his shoulders and creating a sharp contrast with the deep red suit that he wore. His face glowed with life. Dorian had fed before coming and some carefully placed makeup brightened his eyes and gave his lips a warm, inviting color. He wore a pair of boots carefully crafted and molded up his legs like a second skin. The heels added several inches and made his stride look powerful as he gazed over the gathered nobility dressed in their evening wear. Abraham suddenly understood why he wore nothing but boots. The red made him stand out among the darker colors, and reminded everyone that he was, in fact, nobility, for only those of the Queen’s house could wear the color. Abraham caught himself staring. He lost himself in the sight of him, and had to hurry to fall into step as Dorian descended the steps to the ballroom, smiling and nodding as he went. 

Abraham trailed behind him, feeling every bit as uncomfortable in the deep red shift that he wore as he did about the gathered crowd. Closer, he could feel the buzz of the crowd like something creeping along his skin. There was power here, an age and magic that he couldn’t even begin to explain. The silver bracelet was back on his wrist, and Dorian had caught him absently pulling at it as they’d been announced. He’s reached over, prying Abraham’s fingers off of it in a not-so-gentle reminder to hold still. Dorian took each step across the floor slowly, his head held high. Abraham wondered what he was thinking. The image of how fragile he’d seemed before the nightmare flashed in his head. It was nothing like the man he saw now.

Stopping in front of the throne where her Highness sat. Dorian dropped into a deep bow, taking the offered hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the ring there. Abraham hesitated and sank into a kneel. It wasn’t as deep as it should have been. It would have been rude if it wasn’t what Dorian had wanted. He’d told him to behave, but to skirt the edge of politeness. Abraham had thought that would be easy, but it was far more difficult standing this close to the woman.

“My Queen.” Dorian’s voice carried, rich and warm. 

In public, it seemed, where people were watching, she smiled at Dorian, blood red lips curling back from sharp fangs. Her eyes sparkling with joy, her face flushed with a maternal love. Dorian’s cheek still bore the faint pink lines he’d returned from his meeting with. Abraham had tried to ask what had happened and Dorian had simply waved it off as nothing. She wore a crimson gown, and looked every bit the monster that Tinian thought her to be. Victor sat by her right side, his expression calm and collected as the Queen drew Dorian forward. “My Prince.” Every person in the hall turned towards her. Abraham could hear the rustle of clothing, the only sound as the air seemed to thicken with something prickly. “It is so good to have you home again.” 

Dorian too, seemed affected. His dark eyes were trained on her face as if she were the only thing on earth that mattered. He looked at her like Abraham had seen priests look upon the gods. It was the same lost, revenant expression. Abraham’s stomach churned, and he clenched his fist at his side as Dorian continued. “It is good to be home, mother. Thank you for this celebration.” 

She took her hand back from him, her fingers gently curling along his cheek in a parody of affection. Did Dorian not see the dark, hungry look she gave him? Did he not notice the predator in front of him as he leaned into her touch. “Enjoy the party, my son.” 

Dismissed, Dorian took a step back, motioning for Abraham to stand as well. He met her gaze as he rose, glaring up into icy blue eyes. Here, close to her, he could feel the source of that power. It beat against his own, a strange, unnatural thing that was at once familiar and otherworldly. Abraham straightened further. Her gaze scared over him, her lips curling into a cruel smile. Abraham’s hand dropped to his hip, where his sword was supposed to be. For the first time since coming here he felt the roar of his own magic, gold and sparkling, a river of fire in his blood. It sparked through his veins, threatened to spill from his pores. He could feel power from the Queen like an ocean that threatened to overwhelm him like the icy black of a frozen ocean. Heat filled him. It was reminded that this wasn’t just some human who was dragged around by the nose. Herwas a knight of Tinian, and though he rarely showed his power, it was still there. Abraham took a single step forward. Every instinct in him told him to strike. His tongue started to form wards that he hadn’t spoken in so long. 

Dorian’s hand on his wrist was a shock of cold. Abraham started to pull against it, but was jerked roughly backwards. He looked behind him once, and the Queen still watched him. He gasped as he was roughly shoved into a corner.

“Behave.” Dorian hissed. Abraham’s glare turned on him. His blood still sang with light. He wanted to let it carve a place inside himself, a reminder that he wasn’t helpless here. Abraham opened his mouth and Dorian reached up, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt, “Listen to me, you will behave here, or I will lock you in my workshop for the next year, do you understand me?” 

Abraham’s lips curled in disgust, and he pulled against Dorian’s grip, giving the choice of ripping the tunic or letting go. Dorian let go. Abraham said, his eyes scanning over the crowd. A few people were watching him. His gaze fell on the guards posted around the room, dressed in dark armor and crimson cloaks. What could he do here other than get himself killed? 

“Abraham?” 

“I understand.” He snapped.

Dorian’s expression said didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with whatever was eating him at the moment. Instead, he turned back to the room. The first thing he noticed was that the party seemed relatively small. He’d expected something grander for the return of the prince, but this seemed to be a relatively private gathering. Small pockets of vampires huddled together, talking and laughing while humans stood beside them, or sat at their feet, each one sipping from a glass. 

The second thing he noticed were the cages. Set around the room, low seats surrounded glass cages like the seats of a stage. Abraham swallowed at the sight of people inside, nakes or dressed in flimsy almost translucent garments. Some held couples, other individuals, but each one seemed to be locked in some form of intimacy. As they stepped past one, Abraham could hear the soft sounds of heavy breathing, delicate moans as a man tangled his fingers in his partner’s hair, her lips wrapped around him. Abraham tried to focus on anything else.

He saw Elias the same moment the man caught his eye. His skin prickled with a new flush. He had done everything he could to get the feeling of his teeth in his skin out of his mind. Elias had been different from Dorian, more intense, overwhelming with the arousal that had scoured Abarham’s insides. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to interact with the man again. 

Dorian, of course, offered him an inviting smile when he stepped forward. “Lord Rayland.” He offered him his hand, and Elias kissed it. Dorian bit the inside of his cheek but maintained his welcoming smile. “I’m so glad you made it.” 

“I was worried you wouldn’t,” Elias replied. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. Abraham glanced at the pet behind him, the pretty redhead that had been so sweet in their meeting. She already had a slight flush to her cheeks, and was sipping from a flute of champagne. She had her head on Elias’ shoulder, his arm resting at the small of her back. 

Abraham wondered if he was expected to act with the same sweet demeanor. He glanced at Dorian, the cold twist to his smile that told him it wasn’t worth risking his hand to try to touch him.

“It was a party in my honor, of course I was going to come.” Dorian replied. He plucked a glass from a passing tray and passed it to Abraham. “Drink slowly.” he instructed, “I would hate to have to carry you out of here.” Was all he said before turning back to his companion. “This one was a nightmare to get ready. Truly, one would think he could be a little less stubborn.” 

“You always did so love a challenge. But where are my manners.” He turned back to the group he’d been speaking to. “Dorian, I’m sure you’ll see some faces you recognize.” 

Abraham scowled at the drink, lifting it to his nose to sniff. It didn’t smell like much, except for something sharp that burned his nose. He took a tentative sip, his scowl only growing. Was everything in this gods damned place sweet? 

He stood stiffly beside Dorian. It seemed Elias was in the middle of a conversation. He didn’t recognize any of the faces, though a few of the names stuck out as ones Dorian had pointed out when he’d been teaching him about the complex web of nobility. They were, it seemed, primarily friends of Dorian’s, or at least people that were neutral. Abraham found it difficult to focus on the conversation, unsure exactly what was expected of him. Dorian sat gracefully, completely unbothered by the scene unfolding only a handful of feet away. Abraham tried to avert his eyes, but his gaze returned to the couple that was performing nearby. Two men were locked in a sensual embrace. A dark skinned woman pulled her partner into her lap, kissing him with enough passion that one could believe that they were in love.

Abraham swallowed, looking away as he took another sip of his drink. Dorian was smiling, his entire demeanor more animated than Abraham had ever seen him. His dark eyes sparkled as he spun a story about how he’d come to return home. He couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of his eye.

“There are far more of our brothers and sisters in Tinian than they will ever admit.” Dorian explained. The woman’s hand slid between her partner’s legs. Abraham couldn’t see what she was doing with her hand, but the man moaned, his face tipping into her shoulder. 

“Are there really?” someone asked.

“Oh yes,” Dorian chuckled. “It turns out when the Queen chooses banishment as opposed to death, it only spreads our influence. It can get quite lonely on the other side of the continent without some kind of companionship. There are whole communities. 

Abraham’s mind buzzed with the voices of too many people. Bodies pressed to close to his own. He’d never been adverse to touch, but he hated feeling caged. In the cage, the man had his head between the woman’s legs, her fingers buried in his hair as her back arched. 

Abraham took another sip of his drink, deciding that it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had seemed at first.

“So… where were you?” A woman in a pale blue dress asked. 

“East, as far east as I could get without getting on a boat.” Dorian’s laughter grated against his ears and the tittering of other laughs followed. 

“East? What for?” 

“It wanted to be by the sea.” Dorian shrugged, reaching out to absently lay his hand on Abraham’s lower back. He flinched away. “Besides, I discovered a lovely little town, large enough that no one noticed me but small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming.” 

Overwhelming… A headache built at the base of his skull. Abraham took another sip of the drink, the taste bursting along his tongue, making his head swirl as his taste buds tried to process it.

Someone passed too close to Abraham, nearly pressing against his back. He stepped forward, knees bumping into Dorian’s chair, and his eyes turned to him. The man reached up, cupping the back of his neck as he pulled his head down. Cold lips pressed to his ear. 

“The gardens are lovely this time of night… and quiet.” he murmured. Eyes flickering to a set of doors behind Abraham. “Straight through there.” 

“You’re not worried I’m going to try to escape?” Abraham asked without thinking. His hands were shaking, every sense felt like it was frayed. The room was too bright, the voices too loud, and over it all, the thrum of ageless magic that scraped like steel against his skin. 

Dorian ‘s fingers dug into the back of his neck. “I dare you to try. We’ll see how far you get.” He heard the tinkling of laughter behind the prince, and Abraham’s eyes shot to the people he’d been talking to.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Elias said.

Dorian ignored him, releasing Abraham’s neck. “Go. Let the adults speak. Be back before the feast begins.” He didn’t give Araham a backwards look as he turned back to the waiting nobility. 

The knight hesitated only for a moment before he turned and pushed his way through the ballroom. Bodies pressed against him, and he heard another windchime laugh that scraped against his insides. He nearly tipped over someone’s gown. The crowd suddenly felt far larger than it had seemed when he’d been on the edge of it. Abraham all but burst through the double doors, gasping as if he’d just run for miles.

The air was cool and crisp. Abraham sucked in lungfuls of air, feeling something slot into place. It had been days… weeks perhaps since he’d seen the sky. There was a soft breeze, cold enough to send gooseflesh prickling along his skin, but he didn’t care. The air was fresh and seared his lungs as he let his feet carry him through the grounds. 

The Queens Gardens, it turned out, were barren. Plots of land stood largely empty save for a few bushes that likely flowered in the spring. Every so often there was a splash of color, a vibrant red or purple as flowers seemed to defy the snow and cold. The rest were prickly bushes with deep red berries. Small, private alcoves were tucked at regular intervals. More than once, Abraham heard giggling coming from them, or the sound of rustling clothing. He tried not to think about what they were doing. Did the cold not bother them? 

Deeper into the gardens, Abraham let the shadows close around him. He’d never had a weariness to the dark as many people in Tinian did. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could defend himself, or maybe he’d just been born without that fear. He certainly felt like born to be a knight of the church and one of their hunters. Or at least, he usually did. Now, his skin prickled with discomfort. He turned into a small alcove, the firepit was cold, and he couldn’t be bothered to light it as he dropped onto a low bench, shifting uncomfortably when the carving of a rose dug into his back. 

He didn’t understand how everything could be so different here. He’d attended parties in Tinian as a guard. He’d worked festivals when he’d been a squire. His stomach turned at the thought of anyone doing anything like this in his homeland. At best, the person would be arrested, at worst, such inappropriateness could be a death sentence. Abraham bracked his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, pressing his palms to his face. What was he doing here? He’d done nothing to help Dorian except to stay quiet and out of the way. He wasn’t good at pretending like he needed him to. The thought that he  _ could _ try to escape simmered in the back of his mind. 

Could he get to his weapons? The thought of leaving them behind was like a stab in the gut, but he would. He glanced down at his clothes. He wasn’t dressed for a trek into the snow. It was just as likely that he would get stuck in the mountains and freeze to death. That thought was unappealing. Besides, could he really leave Dorian to fend for himself? It was like he was dealing with two different men. He couldn’t get the image of Dorian vulnerable as he settled against his chest out of his head. It was so different from the coldness he showed whenever he was around others. 

Abraham wondered which one was genuine. It was just as likely that none of it was. He groaned, his thighs going numb against the cold stone.

The sound of a woman clearing her voice made him flinch. Abraham’s head shot up, and he stared across the small alcove. He hadn’t seen the woman when he’d sat down, but it seemed she’d been there a while, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her skirt was hiked up to her knees, and her feet tucked under her. Even in the dim light of the moon, Abraham could see how her skin glowed pale white. Her lips stood out a sharp contrast of red, and her black hair glinted with a gem-laden hairnet, curls springing free to frame her face. Her face was half-cast in shadow, but she wore a gown of rich blue, matching heeled shoes resting on the bench beside her. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She said. She had a soft voice, high and sweet, “I didn’t mean to startle you. You looked like you were having a moment, and I wasn’t sure you wanted company for it.” 

“I am sorry, my lady.” Abraham said automatically. “I didn’t realize this spot was occupied. I’ll-” he stood, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. 

“Oh, don’t leave on my account. I was just giving my feet a rest…” She motioned to the shoes beside her. “And I’m not a fan of these events.” Her lips quirked into a smile, revealing sharp, glittering fangs. Stranding, he could see that her face was beautiful with delicately sloped, aristocratic features. “Please sit. I mean, your other option is going back in there.” She nodded towards the palace whose lights glittered like the eyes of a multi- headed beast.

Abraham followed her gaze. He couldn’t go back to that crowd, all those voices. “I suppose your company is preferable.” 

Her laughter was the soaring of a flute, “I suppose so. If you’d like you can just pretend I’m not here.” 

Abraham sat, his back stiff. The woman seemed content to sit in silence. She shifted every so often, absently stretching her foot. Abraham couldn’t help but study her. She couldn’t have been older than twenty when she was turned. He couldn’t place where he’d seen her before.

She caught him looking, lifting a dark eyebrow as she leaned forward, “So, seeing as we’re both hiding from people here, what’s your name?” 

“Abraham,” he said, wincing, “Ah… Ser Radcliff if titles matter.” 

“Radcliff?” her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes?” It was likely she knew of him. It seemed everyone had caught wind of the prince’s knight of a pet.

“I knew a Radcliff once. He was also a knight,” She smiled, “No relation, I’m sure. He was a vampire. Though… I suppose it’s possible he could have had family.” The woman lowered her feet to the cold stone as if it didn’t bother her, and shrugged. “I never asked. One of life’s coincidences I suppose.” She reached across the cold fire pit “Lady Ashwood. It’s a pleasure Ser Radcliff.” 

“The pleasure is mine, my lady.” Abraham took her hand, bowing his head slightly, though he didn’t kiss it.

“You must be the Ser Radcliff I’ve heard so much about.” He felt her eyes move to his wrist as he took his hand back, “the pet of Prince Dorian.” 

“I must be.” Abraham said carefully. He lowered his hand to his side, all but hiding the bracelet.

“Oh it’s all right. I’m not… interested in currying favor or anything. I just wasn’t expecting to meet someone so close to the Prince tonight.” 

Abraham didn’t know what to say. He was sure it wasn’t a good idea to say that he wasn’t close to him, but he felt the strange urge to defend himself. 

She gave him another gentle smile as he sat frozen. “It’s all right. I won’t tell him you were out here if you don’t tell him I was.” 

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t have a reason to tell him. I don’t… recognize the name Ashwood.” 

“Minor nobility.” She said, waving her hand as if it were nothing. “My husband is the son of one of the lords further west. We don’t come to court often.” 

“Ah…” 

“What’s he like?” When Abraham didn’t answer right away, she added, “The Prince. You hear all these rumors, but I doubt most of them are true.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person to ask.” Realizing how it sounded, he added, “I haven’t known him very long.” 

“No, I suppose not, but you do see him often.” She leaned in further, and Abraham could see her eyes were wide, earnest, “Is he… all right? Happy, I mean. Does he like being home?”

“I…” Abraham shook his head, “I don’t think I’m the person to answer that, and even if I was, he’s a private man. He wouldn’t appreciate me saying.” 

Her lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout, “Come now, I won’t tell him what you told me.”

Discomfort prickled down his neck again, “I don’t think that’s appropriate, my lady.” He moved to stand again and her hand shot out, not touching him, but gesturing for him to sit. 

“I apologize, that was forward to me. I should have guessed that you wouldn’t be willing to speak of your master’s private life.” 

“He’s not-” Abraham caught himself before he could finish, letting out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, my lady, I think I should leave you to your rest.” 

“Please… you seem much more in need of a quiet place.” She settled backwards, motioning for him to take his seat.

Abraham hesitated, looking again back towards the palace. Laughter drifted on the wind, and he scowled.

“I promise not to ask about the Prince.” 

Abraham sighed, sitting once again and scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“You don’t like these things either then?” 

“No.” Abraham scoffed. 

“I thought I would, once upon a time. My first one was exhilarating but I was nervous the whole time. It hasn’t gotten any better with time. My siblings are much more interested, but even then… I don’t think any of us really like them.”

“Ah… it must be hard then. Why did you come?” 

“It felt appropriate. It’s not every day the second of the Queen’s remaining two children comes home after a self-imposed exile.” She smiled, “Why did you come?” 

Abraham shook his head, “I really didn’t have much of a choice.” 

“Expected to play the obedient pet?” She laughed, “I remember those days. I was never quite so high as a pet, but I made myself known.” 

“Is it worth it?” Abraham asked.

“I’ll tell you when I figure that out.” She stared at him, a small frown creasing her forehead that made him grimace. “It’s not… not worth it. I get to be with my husband, who I love dearly. But, I know of others who are not so lucky. Who felt like they had no choice but to be turned.”

“Ah… I suppose… that makes sense.” Abraham thought of Dorian, of what he’d said before, about how he’d refused to be straightening bedchambers for the rest of his life. Did he actually enjoy his immortality? Part of him wanted to pull on that thread, to see if it unraveled. He lapsed into silence and the woman cleared her throat again. 

“Would you mind if I told your fortune?” 

“What?” 

“Your fortune? Palm reading?” She held up her hands as if to reiterate. “I have a bit of the gift of prophecy. It runs in my line. You look like you might have an interesting one.” 

Abraham scowled. He’d heard of hedge witches claiming to be able to read one’s fortunes in the entrails of a chicken or from the spread of a drop of blood. He never believed any of it, and even if it was real, it wasn’t for any earthly creature to say what the future held. “Unless you can tell me if I’m ever going to get out of here, I think I’ll pass.” 

She smiled, shifting forward, her skirt catching on the stone and lifting higher, showing her upper thighs. “I can tell you that too.” 

Abraham glanced at her before carefully holding out his hand. Her fingers were cool and strong when they closed around his wrist. She dragged one nail over the lines of his palm, humming as she turned his hand this way and that. “Well, you certainly have the hands of a fighter. Lots of callous, strong grip. If you look here,” She traced one line, on his upper palm, “You like to take a straightforward approach to things and rely on tradition. You’re also restless in your relationships. Romance doesn’t come easy to you.” She pressed her fingers to one moving up from his palm, “You’re going to be influenced by things around you. There is much beyond your control. And…” She trailed off, a crease in her brow.

“What?” Abraham asked, leaning forward to look at his own hand.

“It’s weird, you’re going to have a terribly short life, but also one that is… long? I see…” She drew in a deep breath, her grip tightening on his hand. Her gaze focused off in the distance, lips parted. 

“Ma’am?” Abraham pulled against her grip. “Lady Ashwood? Ma’am.” He jerked his hand hard, breaking her grasp. She pulled back from him with a gasp. 

“Oh… Oh Abraham, I am… so sorry...” She looked at him as if she’d seen a ghost, her face paler, her eyes wide with shock.

“What did you see?” Abraham demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. He stood up quickly, looking down at his hand as if it held the answers. 

“There you are.” Dorian’s voice drifted from behind him. He turned suddenly, staring at him with wide eyes. “I was wondering where you’d run off too. Really, Abraham, what are you doing all the way out here?” 

Abraham glanced behind him, and Dorian drew in a sharp break. “Ally?” He said, stepping around Abraham towards the woman that still sat, her face composing quickly into a warm smile. 

“Didi!” She hopped to her feet, throwing her arms around his neck.

Ally? Abraham’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked at the pair, Dorian standing frozen as the woman hugged him tightly. They were of the same height, the same dark hair and glittering eyes. He was surprised he hadn’t put it together before. “This is Alissa?” Abraham asked, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

“What are you doing here?” Dorian demanded. He stepped back from her embrace, hands on her shoulders. 

“Do you really think I would miss my own brother’s welcome home feast?” She asked. Any trace of her horror had vanished. It seemed it was a family trait. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.” 

“Neither did you,” She countered, “I had to find out from Marcus. He at least remembers to write.”

“To you perhaps. That’s not important. You decided to come to said feast without shoes?” Dorian pressed, glancing down at her bare feet. 

“Not all of us can spend the night in heels, Didi. Besides, I was just taking a break, I had a fine gentleman to keep me safe.” She said, and Dorian shot him a look that made his heart beat a rhythm of fear against his chest. “Marcus mentioned that you had a new lover. He didn’t say he was so handsome.” 

“Alissa Bryant Ashwood. One, he’s not my lover. And two, you're married.”

“No? Really.” She cocked her head to the side. “That’s not what Marcus said.” 

“Why is it that everyone thinks Marcus is the expert on everything in my life?” Dorian hissed. Alissa weathered his glare a lot easier than most people.

She smiled, a challenge in her eyes, “Well, if he’s not yours, and my husband and I take regular partners, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to come home with me?” Dorian drew in a sharp breath, and Abraham knew that he was about to snap. 

“Why did you need to find me?” Abraham asked. He was desperate for a change of subject. Dorian turned his dark gaze on him. 

“The feast is about to begin. I need you inside.” 

“Then we should go.” Abraham said, he shared a look with the woman over Dorian’s shoulder. She gave him a grateful smile.

“I like this one, Didi. Try to hold onto him. It’ll be worth it.” 

“That is certainly my intention.” Dorian replied. So it seemed, she wasn’t in on their ruse. It was likely for the best. “Though my record says otherwise. Ally, you know you shouldn’t be here.” 

She hugged Dorian tightly, “I’m glad you’re home. Uriel wanted to extend an offer for you to take a holiday with us. It’ll be a good chance to catch up. Please don’t be mad at me for just wanting to see you. It’s been a long time, Didi.”

“...so it has.” Dorian’s expression softened. He hugged his sister back, the resemblance between them was striking.

She curtsied politely to Abraham as she pulled away. “And thank you for the company, Ser Radcliff. I hope we get the chance to speak again.” 

She hurried off without another word. Abraham got the distinct impression that she was fleeing. When he turned back to Dorian, the man’s eyes were on him, lips turned down in a cold scowl, “What did you say to her?” 

“Nothing of any importance.” 

Dorian’s doubt was plain on his face. “She shouldn’t be here.” 

“Why?” 

He glared at Abraham as if he were the one who had done something wrong. “Come on. We best not be late.” Dorian stormed off, leaving Abraham to follow after, his head aching even worse than when he’d come out here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -adds a blink and you'll miss it reference to my other ftm romance novel- Easter Eggs, right? Sometimes you gotta be your own fandom. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. The next one is going to be kinda spicy so I'm excited for that. I'm still building up to some actual smut. I have a couple more scenes I want to get to, and then one like... really romantic scene and THEN we can start in on some real smut. Guess this was a lot more slow burn than I thought it would be
> 
> Anyway! Thank you all so much for reading. Feel free to chat me up in the comments or on any of my social media.   
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> My twitter has the bonus of getting snippets and story updates!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraham gets drunk and Dorian feeds on him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Tags: Drunkenness, Drinking, Alcohol, Blood Drinking
> 
> Man it's been one hell of a week with life stuff, but hey! the chapter is here. That's better than nothing. I hope you all enjoy and thank you for being patient with me as I kinda find the thread for this story. I had one idea but Abe and Dorian kinda moved away form it, so I had to rethink some things and came up with a very interesting ending to the Pet that kinda unlocked my inspiration for this one again. I'm excited to start foreshadowing it in coming chapters!

Abraham barely had time to brace himself as he stepped back into the palace. He felt the walls closing in around him again, the lack of windows and stagnant air feel like he was being squeezed from all sides. The ballroom was clear at least, most people having gathered in the dining room. Abraham stared at the back of Dorian’s head, his throat working around the tightness that threatened to choke him. 

Abraham in the doorway as Dorian stepped through the near-empty ballroom, the man turning back to look at him when he realized he wasn’t being followed. 

“Are you coming?” 

“I…” Abraham couldn’t explain the first that squeezed around his lungs. He’d never been prone to panic, at least, not until he’d met Dorian. At least he hadn’t, until he’d strained every vow he’d made when he was knighted - until he’d come to this place. He’d thought himself able to weather all of it, but this was… too much. All of it was too much. Abraham took a step backwards, and Dorian’s expression melted. 

“Come with me.” He said, his voice dropping into the soft, coaxing tone he’d used so often when they were alone. He turned suddenly, leading Abraham to a small room off to the side of the ballroom. Abraham’s teeth ground together, but he followed. The room seemed to be used by the servants to store refills of drinks. Two humans dressed in the simple white tunics of the staff started when tAbraham all but slammed the door behind him. They dropped to their knees, bowing before Dorian.

“Everyone out.” he snapped.

Dorian stalked across the small space, filled with nervous energy as they scrambled to leave. His lips pressed into a thin line. “What is it?” Abraham demanded, “You said yourself, that we can’t be late.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were  _ this _ uncomfortable with being here?” 

Abraham’s brows drew together. “I thought you knew. I thought-” He’d assumed Dorian could pull the information from his mind. He didn’t have a problem with that before.

“You thought what?” Dorian pressed. “That I would violate your privacy?”

“Well… yes?” 

“You asked me not to.” he snapped, frustration clear in his voice. “I told you I wouldn’t and I haven’t. I can’t have you out there like that. People will wonder why I don’t bring you to heel.” 

“I thought I was supposed to be hesitant.” Abraham pressed.

“You are. But not on the verge of panic. I knew you had an aversion to crowds, but not like this.” 

“So just let them think I’m unruly. It wouldn’t be out of place, all things considered.” 

“I can’t,” Dorian bit his lip, “Victor and Elias both have seen us together, have seen you obedient and compliant. I’ve let them fill in the blanks thus far about why, but if you cannot hold yourself together and I do nothing to correct it, they will wonder why.” 

“You didn’t think to tell me that?”

“I-” Dorian caught himself. He let out a tired breath. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” A barbed laugh slipped from him, “Yet another thing I have to be sorry for.” 

Abraham flushed. The thought of going out there made him want to vomit. Worse was the knowledge that he would be involved with the feast part of this feast. It had been bad enough to be fed on in private. To have Dorian bite him in public, to have people  _ see _ such an act. He didn’t think he could do it. “So what do we do?” 

“I’m trying to figure that out.” Dorian said, his fingers tapping an absent rhythm on his thigh. “I could take you back to my room.” he murmured. “It’s not uncommon, but it will cost me a chance to speak with the Queen. She’s in a surprisingly good mood tonight.” 

Abraham dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m not good at this Dorian. I don’t….” he sighed, “I’m not good with people.” 

“You don’t have to be good with people, you just have to be good with me.” Dorian said, and as if realizing what he said, he focused his gaze on Abraham’s face. “Is that what’s bothering you? The… spectacle of it? The other people. I knew you traveled often, but certainly you aren’t so socially inept that you can’t manage a crowd.”

Abraham didn’t know how to respond. He’d never been good with people. Crowds made him twitchy. It’s one of the things that made him suited for long nights on the road. He’d always preferred his own company. Loneliness was held at bay by the smallest of interactions. It was enough. It had always been enough.

Dorian was still watching him, a calculating look on his face. “I just don’t like them?” He managed. Abraham hated how it came out like a question. It was a long time since he’d felt unsure of himself like this.

“How did you manage before? I’ve been to Turncliff. It’s not exactly sparsely populated.” 

“It was easier there. I knew what to do, and I didn’t have to think about anything.”

Dorian took a step towards him, and Abraham’s heart stuttered in his chest. He was ready for it when Dorian’s fingers curled around his upper arm. He didn’t know when the sound of his boots clicking on the floor made him relax, but Abraham felt something in his chest ease. “Do you remember the farmhouse?” 

“What about it?” Dorian’s palm was cool through the thin fabric of his tunic. Abraham looked down at it, heat rising in his cheeks, a counterpoint to his touch. 

“Do you remember how you relaxed for me? How you did in the hallway. You fall so deep so quickly.” Dorian’s hand slid up to his shoulder like a line of fire setting his nerve sparking. “Or on the road, when you found your peace in prayer. It’s not so different. It’s the same mindset.” He stepped closer, Dorian’s body pressed flush against him as his fingers slid into the hair at the base of his skull. “You just have to relax.” 

Abraham closed his eyes, “I don’t think I’ve ever been truly relaxed a day in my life.” He meant for it to come out teasing, but the words caught like barbs in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, his nose burning. 

“Try.” 

Abraham let out a shaking breath. He tried to remember the times when he’d tumbled on the precipice of something too large to name. It wasn’t so different from how he’d felt talking his vows. He’d been up for three days, holding a silent vigil in a small chapel. His thoughts had swirled then, his prayers ringing around the empty room, echoing like a song through his blood. It hadn’t been so different from the first time he’d sank to his knees in front of Dorian, had felt those cold fingers in his hair like they were now, his heartbeat fluttered in his chest, and Abraham tipped his head forward, resting it on Dorian’s shoulder. 

The man made a small sound of approval, dragging his fingers upwards towards the crown of his head. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked, “I know you are. I know this is all so difficult for you.” A firm hand on Abraham’s shoulder pushed him backwards and he went with it. Dorian’s expression was gentle, “I am so sorry, Abraham. I know you have to reason to, but trust that I will be right beside you. For all intents and purposes you are mine.” Dorian’s fingers locked tightly on the back of his neck, “I  _ always _ protect what’s mine, Abraham.” 

Abraham swallowed the lump in his throat. Heat prickled along his skin, settling like a weight in his stomach. “We should get back out there.” 

“We should.” Dorian agreed, “Just try to relax. Let me lead. All you have to do is follow.” 

Abraham nodded. His skin felt cold as Dorian pulled away, dragging his fingers through his loose curls to straighten them. “Then let’s go.” The smile he gave Abraham was sharp and inviting, the thorns on a rose that threatened prick if anyone got too close. 

Abraham followed after and wondered when exactly his life had become unrecognizable.

*

Paintings in Tinian of the Red Palace always showed the grand dining hall as the beating heart of hell. Often, humans were depicted strung upside down with their throats cut, rivers of blood flowing along the floor and demonic creatures all but bathing in the carnage. Abraham found himself a little disappointed by the reality. 

A long table sat in a homely looking room. A fire crackling merrily in a fireplace that took up nearly half the wall. It made the room feel warm and inviting. The floors, like much of the palace, were polished to a shine. However, where much of the palace was decorated to be gilded, displaying wealth and age beyond measure, there was something softer about the tapestries on the wall. The room was lit not with magelight, but with flickering candles, the light dancing and glinting off the dark crystals of the chandelier overhead. It gave everything an intimate feeling, despite the dozens of people gathered. 

Dorian was the last one to arrive, just as he had been to the party. He strode in with an easy grace. Abraham kept his gaze on the back of Dorian’s head, following close behind. He tried to hold onto that empty, soft feeling, but it was harder with so many people looking their way.

“I apologize for the delay, my Queen.” Dorian’s voice was unbothered and even as he approached the seat to her left. He stopped in front of the chair, and Abraham hurried to pull it out for him, his cheeks warm for a reason he couldn’t quite explain. 

“You are late.” Abraham felt Dorian’s spine stiffen against the backs of his hands as he lowered himself into his chair. 

“I apologize. There was something I needed to deal with.” 

Abraham met the Queen’s hard gaze as she turned them on him. He felt that same sense of danger, a prickle of something that at once spoke to and railed against something inside him. Dorian’s hand close around his wrist, pulling him downwards into the seat to his right. Abraham bowed his head slightly, staring at the empty plate in front of him.

“As you can see,” Dorian continued. His hand came to rest on Abraham’s thigh, “Things take a bit of extra work.” 

Abraham didn’t lift his gaze again. Let them think him cowed, or too afraid to act against Dorian. His mind turned back to the workshop, and Dorian’s off-hand comments on projects. Perhaps his fear wasn’t completely unfounded. Victor sat across from him, leaning over to whisper something in the dark-haired human man that sat at his side. Abraham watched them, the elder prince’s green eyes locked on his face. He reached for his glass, downing half of the contents in one go, his face twisting at the taste of the wine.

Dorian looked up when a servant appeared at his side. Abraham glanced at her, surprised to see Loranna, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple bun. She looked at Abraham as she passed Dorian a piece of heavy paper. There was sympathy in her eyes perhaps, or maybe that was just surprise that he was allowed out of his room. He scanned it, over Dorian’s shoulder, the man pointing to several items. “Nothing with heavy cream.” he said, “Little cheese. Honestly, avoid dairy completely if you can manage it.”

All down the hall, others were doing the same, the vampires indicating foods to be brought for their human companions. He could see Dorian’s sister further down, chatting easily with the human at her side, her teeth flashing with a warm smile. He was surprised when the human woman spoke softly to the servant, shooting Alissa confused glances as the dark-haired woman nodded encouragingly. Dorian’s fingers tightened on his thigh. The man wasn’t looking at him, he continued his conversation as if nothing had happened, but it was a small, possessive gesture that made Abraham’s blood flood with heat. He drained his glass.

Abraham closed his eyes, letting himself relax as the drink did it’s work. He focused on Dorian’s hand on his thigh as it loosened and moved in a slow pattern. Up, over, down. Up, over, down. His breathing slowed to match the steady rhythm, tension unspooling from his stomach.

“...I was actually hoping to speak to you about that.” Dorian said, and Abraham realized he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“Tread carefully,” It was Victor who spoke. The Queen’s gaze seemed to be focused on nothing. No servant had come to speak to her, and there was no human at her side.

“I found some interesting ruins on Angelgrand Island while I was traveling there. They looked familiar. The locals thought them a temple to their Twins, but I swear I’ve seen them before.”

Abraham’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized Dorian had been on Angelgrand. It was the seat of some of the oldest and most holy magic they’d ever seen. It would have been the seat of the church itself if the magic there wasn’t prone to unstableness. It was tradition for those taking vows to the church to make a pilgrimage there. Abraham hadn’t been able to reach it, the press and prickle of power so strong that it had made his bones ache. There had been no force on earth that could have made him go within miles of the place, let alone actually set foot in one of the temples. And yet… Dorian had and was still here to tell the tale.

Across the table, Victor was watching Dorian, his lips thinning. “And what, exactly, are you asking for?” 

“Permission to compare some of the records I took to some in her Majesty's collection. I saw them the last time I was there.”

Victor’s lips thinned, “You truly expect to be allowed back into her good graces strictly because you ask? You’ve been gone for some time, Dorian, and you’ve returned with someone who is trained and bred to kill our kind in tow.” 

“Then perhaps this isn’t a conversation for this moment.” Dorian said, “After all, this is a party.” Their voices were soft and didn’t carry, but the man next to Abraham was not so subtly leaning towards them, “Besides, Abraham is far more tame than you realize.” Dorian leaned his head against Abraham’s shoulder, a parody of affection. “He was more than willing to service Lord Rayland. I’d daresay he even enjoyed it.” 

Abraham opened his mouth and Dorian’s nails pricked into his skin, a silent warning.

“If memory serves,” Dorian continued, “It is not up to you to decide my worthiness. The last time you tried, it went very poorly for you, did it not?” 

“Did it?” Victor asked, “You know, I recently spoke to Soren. He was so sad he couldn’t make it tonight. He did want to know -  _ How is your back, Dorian _ ?” 

Abraham’s stomach dropped. Beside him, every muscle in Dorian’s body tensed, his breathing drew in. Abraham hissed in pain, dropping his hand to the hand on his thigh to try to break his grip. Dorian immediately didn’t let him go, his nails sharp enough to cut through his pants. Abraham’s grip tightened, and he reached for that sputtering flame of magic in him, he thought of warmth, of light. He closed his glowing fingers around Dorian’s wrist. Across the table, Victor’s eyes narrowed. 

The sound of a hand slamming onto the table startled him, and every eye flew to the Queen. “Victor, that is enough. You have been warned.” 

The prince bowed his head, “I apologize, mother.” 

Dorian let out a shaking breath. “Thank you, my Queen. As I said, this is, perhaps, not a conversation to be had at a celebration. Suffice to say, I am very glad to be home.”

Dorian didn’t look at him, but he did take his hand off Abraham’s thigh. He turned the conversation to other matters, talking about court gossip that had Abraham once again tuning out. Still, his mind swirled, and Dorian’s hand returned to his thigh as food was brought out. The prince leaned forward, pressing his lips to Abraham’s ear, “Enjoy as much as you’d like. I’ll be here.”

The food Abraham was brought was more to his tastes than anything he’d had since coming here. Savory brothers and warm meats lightly spiced. Nothing had cream, as Dorian had requested, and all of it was mouth-wateringly good. Abraham had eaten like this only once, when he’d been on guard for a palace event, and even then, it wasn’t quite so filling. The wine was delicious. He knew little of it, preferring ales and ciders, but the flavor exploded on his tongue. Still, he drank deeply, letting it settle the tension in his stomach that never seemed to go away. It was only after his fourth glass that he realized just how drunk he was getting. His head was starting to float as it had before. It was easier to relax into Dorian’s touch. 

Along the table, vampires engaged in conversation while their pets ate. There seemed to be quite the variety in dishes, and Abraham realized how little he knew about vampire feeding. Did what the person ate change their taste? He couldn’t imagine it was by much. Blood was blood, after all. 

More than a few vampires took drinks from their companions after each course, humans pulled against sides and into laps, heads tilted back in rapt desire. Abraham flushed, his eyes focused on his own plate. Victor, it seemed, was intent on making him uncomfortable. He made a point to feed only when he thought Abraham was looking. It was only when someone asked if Dorian was going to partake that discomfort settled heavy in his stomach. 

Dorian’s fingers closed around his wrist, his brows drawn together in sympathy. He leaned forward again as Abraham finished up what he thought was the main dish, his breath ghosting against his skin. “Remember what I said before?” Dorian murmured, “Relax for me. Let me worry about the rest.” 

The hand was back on his thigh. Dorian didn’t try to pull him closer, instead choosing to shift so that his leg was pressed alongside Abraham’s, and he thought he could feel his cool skin, even through the layers of their clothes. Dorian didn’t bite him right away, instead he simply touched him, smoothing his hand down Abraham’s leg again in that same simple pattern. Up, over, down. 

Up, over, down.

Up… 

Dorian’s fingers brushed against the seam where his leg met his body, and Abraham jumped. His other hand came up, half rising from his seat to hook his fingers along the back of his neck. Abraham had recovered enough from feeding Elias, though it was far sooner than he was comfortable with. Dorian had promised he wouldn’t take much, but the thought of people seeing him made his heart beat too hard in his chest. 

He was sure Dorian could feel his pulse against his lips, and he felt his mouth curl into what he thought was a smile. Dorian only kissed his skin, touching him in the same way he’d done a thousand times in the past. It was intimate, more intimate than anyone had ever touched him. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. It had been so long since someone had touched him even before Dorian. It wasn’t something he was allowed. The thought made his throat tighten. Dorian didn’t let up. Little by little he felt his muscles unlocking and he heard the soft, musical sigh of his companion against his skin. 

“There you are. Relax for me. Nothing else matters right now. Let yourself have this. You’re allowed to enjoy it.” 

Abraham was forgiven for his sins, he knew that. It had been an important part of his vows. This wasn’t wrong, it didn’t have to be. He was doing this for his duty. If this was the part he was meant to play, then he would. It meant, after all that he would be given a chance to kill the Queen. 

“Abraham, may I…” Dorian’s voice was soft. He was asking for permission. He always asked for permission.

Abraham nodded, his eyes falling shut as the familiar prick of teeth in his neck made him moan. The pain was sharp and sweet, a familiar sensation before the flood of heat could wash him away. He clung to it, letting it add to the feeling, enhance it as Dorian’s hand inched higher up his thigh. Fingers tugged gently against his hair, holding his head to the side. 

He could feel Dorian’s throat working, could feel himself starting to harden in his pants despite himself. And still, the pain was sharp, and sweet, and familiar. Dorian drank slowly. Scooting closer, he felt fingers press to one side of his hip, tugging gently as if asking for permission. Abraham pressed his lips together around a moan that threatened to slip out, his head spinning. He opened his eyes, and met Victor’s across the table. 

The man was watching him, his green eyes locked on his face, drinking in his expression. It wasn’t so different from when Dorian had watched him. The same tense, desperate feeling built in his stomach. He tipped his head backwards, looking up at the ceiling so that he didn’t have to see him watching him. Abraham’s hand dropped to his own thigh, moving inwards in a desperate attempt to free some of the pressure. Dorian pulled away from the wound on his throat, his cold fingers like iron around his wrist as he stopped his hand from wandering further. 

“Not here.” He breathed against his skin. “You’ll regret it later. Can you be good for me and wait just a little longer.” 

Abraham was ashamed of the whine that slipped from his lips. Dorian’s dark chuckle lanced through him. “You’ll just have to wait. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” 

Dorian pulled away. He reached for the cloth set in front of him, dabbing at his lips. Abraham couldn’t help himself as he tipped his head into Dorian’s shoulder, his head swimming from blood loss and strong drink. The sound of his voice was background noise as Abraham’s mind drifted. The sounds of conversation and breathy moans filled his ears. All the while, heat and desire rolled in his stomach in a way that Abraham didn’t want to explore too hard. It wasn’t long before Dorian was tugging on him gently, encouraging him to rise. 

“If you’ll excuse me, my Queen. I’m afraid I must get him to bed. It seems everything was a bit too much for him.” 

Abraham let himself be pulled to his feet, sagging against Dorian. It was rare for the vampire to betray his true strength, but he supported him easily, despite their size difference. He didn’t pay attention to the halls they passed through, only realizing how quickly they’d reached Dorian’s room when the door closed behind them. He sagged against the door, blood rushing in his ears.

“...Abraham?” Dorian looked at him, concerned written across his face.

“I don’t… feel well…” He managed. 

Dorian’s brow softened, and he took Abraham’s arm, pulling him gently towards his rooms. “Come on… let’s get you to bed.” 

“Will you be joining me?” Abraham asked. Dorian pulled harder until he managed to get his feet moving. 

“No.” 

“But you said-” 

“I know what I said, but you are not in a state to tell me what you want. I’d rather not have you pissed at me for something you regret in the morning.” All the same, Dorian pulled gently at his clothes. He tossed his shirt aside, and Abraham saw his gaze sweep across his bare chest with something like appreciation. 

He stared down at the top of Dorian’s head as the man knelt, giving the same treatment to his pants. He tried to ignore the heat that flooded through him, his hand braced on the footboard to keep from falling over. 

Dorian eventually guided him into bed, and Abraham didn’t resist him. “I don’t think I would.” He said after Dorian had pulled the blanket over him.

“You don’t think you would…?”

“Regret it. Not with you. You’re infuriating and I hate you sometimes, but… I don’t think I would regret it.” 

Dorian’s breath huffed out in a laugh, “Tell me that again in the morning perhaps.” He said, turning his back to extinguish the lights. When he turned back around, all Abraham could see was his dark eyes glittering in the gloom, giving no indication of his expression. “Goodnight.” He whispered, his voice holding nothing. Abraham was asleep before the door had even closed again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, but thank you so much for reading. Anything that this story gets is more than I thought it would be. 
> 
> Sorry if things are a little short/rough this week, I'm just glad I got this chapter out in time. It's the first week of the year which means for bookkeeping I'm hella busy, and then my fiance and I have been apartment hunting all week. We think we found one and we should know if we're approved tomorrow!
> 
> All that to say, ya boy's busy and writing time was real scarce. I'm hoping to get back on track this week with longer chapters and also transitioning a bit into more of the romance. I just want these two to really start exploring their feelings since it's so clear they have them it's painful.
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> I'm always down to talk on my social media  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> My twitter has the bonus of getting snippets and story updates and occasionally recs for whatever I'm reading at the moment!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian gives Abraham a thoughtful gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about this chapter since I started this book. I hope you enjoy it! It's certainly a turning point for their relationship! Turns out Dorian can be really thoughtful sometimes.

Abraham was avoiding him. It would have been an impressive feat considering there were only four rooms he could be in if it wasn’t so unbearably frustrating. Dorian spent the week after the feast nurturing the connections he’s reestablished. With the winter holiday of Grandeur growing near it was easy to insert himself into other people’s events. He attended garden parties, drank with nobility, and reminisced on the years before he’d left the country. It was a stark reminder that his skills, while dulled from lack of use, were still effective. He played the gracious prince. If he showed his fangs, it was only to remind someone that once upon a time, he had been the Queen’s favorite, that he could bring even the most stubborn person to heel - and he did so without Victor’s gift of compulsion. Abraham was meant to be an example of that.

He’d intended for these days to be ones where he showed that his dear pet could behave off leash. If nothing else, he would prove that the man feared him far more than he desired his freedom. It was a dynamic that put a sour taste in his mouth, but he would have used it if it meant he could give his companion even a modicum of freedom. With how easily overwhelmed Abraham was proving to be, it would be difficult to show and then his real work could begin. 

But, Abraham was avoiding him. 

When Dorian requested that he join him when he was to meet with old allies, Abraham had sited illness. He’d offered to send for a doctor, Abraham had asked him none too politely not to. He couldn’t put his finger exactly on what had seemed off with that conversation. It wasn’t until he’d come home nearly at dawn and found Abraham’s door half open. Abraham stared blankly at the wall. A book was open on his lap, but he wasn’t reading. He hadn’t been staring at anything. Dorian had left him like that, unsure if it was his place to try to draw him out of his heavy thoughts. 

He’d felt guilty about it for days afterwards. 

It was late again one night when Dorian returned home. He’d forgotten just how demanding court life could be. There were so many conflicting stories that he was having trouble unraveling them all. As it turned out, the Queen was not addressing the peace talks at all. Sure, all documents had her seal, but after sitting in on a meeting with the Prime Minister and her advisors, it was clear that she had no hand in planning things. Victor was taking the lead, and while Dorian didn’t trust him, he seemed genuine in his desire to broker peace between themselves and Tinian. Had he come home prematurely? His fears seemed unfounded, but his contacts had been so sure that the palace was burning down around them.

Dorian sighed, running his hand through his hair to unwind it from his braid. He didn’t even really know what he was looking for except for half-formed rumors and a few ruins that might resemble something he’d only glimpsed nearly a century ago. He knew it wasn’t as simple as dispatching the Queen and taking the throne for himself. If he’d wanted to do that, he would have the first night. He needed allies, people he could trust, and if the seat of her power was not her age, but some outside force, he needed that too.

Dorian scowled at Abraham’s closed door. And then there was that whole mess. He knew Abraham was miserable. It was pretty obvious that everything about this situation was wearing on him. Over the weeks since they’d been here, he’s watched something die in him. A small, treacherous part told him that was a good thing. It made Abraham easier to manipulate, but that part was drowned out by the tension that settled in his chest. 

With a tired sigh, he approached his door. Dorian lifted his hand to knock. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” A soft, feminine voice floated under the crack of the door. Dorian paused.

“I’m just…” Abraham’s voice was strained. He had a guest? How did he know anyone? Dorian’s frown deepened. 

“Will you tell me more about your country?” The woman’s voice was gentle, sweet. Dorian disliked it immediately. 

“I’m afraid there’s much to tell.”

“”Well, you’ve already disproven some of what I thought about you. You’re not nearly as… bloodthirsty as I thought you would be.” Dorian leaned against the doorway. He couldn’t help but listen. 

“An interesting choice of words.” 

“What I mean to say is…” Her soft, sing-song voice faltered, “You always here stories about how dangerous and formidable the Empire is, that their knights and soldiers are among the elite and that they intend to wipe out anyone who doesn’t follow their creed.” 

Abraham was silent for some time, and Dorian leaned forward, his ear pressed to the wood, “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but… things aren’t so different there as they are here. We’re trying to protect people.” 

“From vampires?”

“From… everything,” Abraham sighed, “But things really aren’t that different.” 

“You sound disappointed.”

“I’m not,” Dorian could almost see the wary expression on Abraham’s face, “I’m not I’m just… the things that are different are  _ really _ different.” 

“O-oh…” 

“Like… okay Grandeur. How do you celebrate here?” 

“F-feasts usually? Sports and games, spending time in the snow followed by warm drinks.” 

“Yes, but it’s like… a big thing, everyone gets together.”

“I… yes?”

“Well… we have a feast like you do. Usually we exchange presents but much of the day is spent in… prayer and contemplation. It’s more of an… intimate and private event than a grand feast. It’s for family or close friends, not… everyone.” 

“No… festivals or plays or… anything? Forgive me for saying, but that sounds boring.” 

“We have those things,” Abraham sounded defensive, “But they’re usually reserved for later in the season, almost like a celebration of spring. Even then there’s a… religious element to it.” Dorian wished he could see his expression, if it looked as sad as he sounded. “It’s supposed to be a time to give thanks to the gods for the blessings you’ve received throughout the year. In particular… I… I mean the knights in general… spend time reflecting in a vigil. We would put together something of a potluck and it was… nice… quiet. Most of us didn’t have families so we… made our own.” The words trembled in the air unspoken. Abraham would be missing it. He was missing a lot of things. “The whole affair lasts days. Grandeur is more than just one night.” 

“If nothing else, coming here let us meet, right.” Her voice was sweet, soft. Abraham said nothing. Dorian heard the sound of someone shifting, “I’m… sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” he could see it so clearly, the woman’s intentions. He could almost see her leaning towards him, putting a hand on his arm or his shoulder. The lump in his stomach soured, and Dorian knocked firmly on the door. He felt a twist of satisfaction at the small, surprised yelp that followed. 

Moments later, Abraham stood in the doorway, looking down at him with confusion written on his face. “I… is everything all right?” 

“Come with me. We need to talk.” He glanced behind him. Sitting at a low table was a blonde woman. Dorian thought he recognized her as one of the servants. 

Abraham glanced behind him, following Dorian’s gaze. His cheeks warmed. “R-right. Loranna, I apologize for keeping you from your duties. I… look forward to talking to you again.”

Dorian’s gaze followed the woman as she dropped into a quick bow to him and hurried out. The frustration that settled in his stomach was not something he could pick apart just yet.

*

In the days that followed, Dorian made a point to have Abraham seen with him while he went about his day. In the times he wasn’t attending meetings, he spent his time wandering the grounds, familiarizing himself with the palace once again. There was something comforting to find that very little had changed in the past fifty years. He’d found vampires to be creatures of habit, and without new blood coming in every generation, people fell deeper and deeper into their ruts. When he’d been on the outskirts of Tinian, he’d experienced culture shifting, new magics and technologies were being invented even as he wandered through one of the parlors finding the same paintings that had been hanging there when he’d left. 

Abraham, to his credit, seemed a little more spry after their walks. Breathing in fresh air like a drowning man when they walked the snowy gardens. He didn’t mention the night with Loranna, and Dorian did not want to bring it up and he was being careful not to invade his mind again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, anyway. The whole idea of her soured his mood. He hadn’t really thought to ask Abraham what kind of people he was interested in. He’d assumed that he was bisexual, as Dorian himself was, but he hadn’t thought to confirm. It was just as likely Abraham wasn’t interested in men at all, which dragged up a lot of feelings Dorian would rather not explore if Abraham was interested in  _ him. _

Dorian had caught him deep in prayer when he’d returned at dawn. It didn’t leave him as relaxed as it had on the road, and Dorian wondered what that was about. His frustration only grew. He wanted to ask after his wellbeing, but every time he tried, Abraham dismissed him, putting a wall up that Dorian had no idea how to climb. He used to be better at this. It was only after he’d given him permission to explore on his own that he’d seen anything other than a cold detachment from him. 

Dorian had investigated the woman, Loranna. She seemed to be one of the kitchen staff, having been here for a few years, but had yet to make a significant splash. From what he could tell, she had no serious connections. Dorian knew it was petty but he was nothing if not possessive. He’d had the staff rearranged, citing that Abraham was not required to have his meals in house any longer. 

Dorian had turned Abraham loose and thus, things in his chambers became much more quiet. He was allowed within the spiral of rooms open to the public, and anything near Dorian’s own rooms. He was even allowed into the gardens with a very firm warning that if he tried to leave, it would not go well for either of them. Abraham had barely let Dorian finish his explanation before he’d left, leaving the vampire feeling oddly empty. It was often that Dorian would return to find that he was alone. 

Dorian’s days were far quieter than he’d anticipated. Many of his friends and allies had either died, or had left the palace after he had. He’d made requests of the Queen that she allow him to see her. He’d heard nothing back, not even a no. Dorian had no doubt that was Victor’s doing, and there was little he could do about him while he worked to get in her good graces. 

Everyone else, it seemed, was happy for his return. Dorian threw himself into meetings, gaining himself access to private libraries and borrowed books. Most of the nation’s history was centerized here, but there were bits and pieces scattered about. If he could find those, perhaps he could force them into a complete picture.

He wrote a letter to Marcus, and was surprised to receive a reply along with detailed instructions. It was a small comfort, and his brother was perhaps the only person who could help him in this. 

As the night of the Rayland’s feast drew closer, Abraham seemed more and more tense. He spent less time in his rooms, and when Dorian did find him, he was never happy to see him. He bit his lip as he knocked on his door. Abraham was dressed as was expected, warm pants and a thick tunic, wrapped in an even thicker jacket. His hair was getting long, curling along his cheeks, making him look even harder somehow.

“If you’re here to go over what’s expected of me, I already know.” He said by way of greeting. Abraham looked a little less tired, but there was a hard set to his brow that Dorian wanted to reach up and smooth away.

Dorian’s fingers curled along the doorframe. “Actually there’s been a change of plan, I’m afraid.”

Abraham’s flat brown eyes stared back at him, unamused. “A change of plan.”

It wasn’t a question. Dorian turned, his hair falling over his shoulder to spill down his back “Come with me.” When he looked back, Abraham was staring at him, but hadn’t moved, “That doesn’t look like coming.” 

“What’s the new plan?” 

Dorian’s smile felt a touch too wide as he jerked his head towards the door, “And ruin the surprise?” 

“Dorian, I don’t like your surprises.” 

He put a hand on his chest, “You wound me, Ser Radcliff.” He was pleased when Abraharm’s lips twitched upwards, a ghost of a smile. “Let me put it this way, if you don’t come with me, you’ll be spending Elias’ party hanging on my arm and looking pretty. I promise you’ll prefer what I have in mind.” 

That got Abraham moving, and Dorian led him out of the room.

The hallways of the palace were designed to be confusing. Halls twisted and turned on themselves, leading to rooms that lead to more rooms that lead to another hallway, forming something of a spiral pattern. That said nothing for the myriad of secret passages that ran just under the surface like veins. It had taken Dorian decades of exploring and even then, he was sure he didn’t know all the secrets. It wasn’t for lack of trying. 

Dorian stopped in the center of a hallway, halfway between the throne room and his own personal quarters. After a quick glance around, he knelt down and felt along the sideboard.

“What are you-” Abraham began. 

“Just…” his fingers caught a latch and he pulled, a near invisible section of floor popping up to reveal a set of stairs going down. “There.” He smirked at the sight of Abraham’s shocked expression. “Come now, haven’t you ever seen a secret passage before?” 

“Dorian… don’t we have somewhere to be?” 

He motioned for Abraham to follow, pulling the hatch closed and casting them into complete darkness. He heard Abraham whisper under his breath and a dim, sputtering light glowed in his cupped palms. 

Dorian’s gaze dropped to it, lifting a delicate eyebrow, “I’m surprised you can still do that.” 

“It’s the only thing I can…” Abraham’s expression was drawn in the dim light. Dorian became hyper aware of how tired he looked.

He blinked again, and turned his back, “Come.” 

A set of stairs wound downwards, their footsteps echoing down the narrow passage. Rough hewn walls seemed to press around them. Dorian could feel the crushing weight of it on all sides. He forced his breath into easiness, even as anxiety fluttered in his stomach. The deeper they went, the stronger the sense of wrongness felt. He heard Abraham make a soft, confused sound behind him. 

“Where…?” Dorian didn’t know what he was sensing, but the tension wound in his stomach. He always got the feeling that something down here didn’t want him here. It had been that way even when he’d been human.

Dorian stopped in front of a simple wooden door, turning back to Abraham with a serious expression. “I need you to understand that no one can know about this.” 

“Know about what?” Abraham scowled at him, and Dorian was almost glad to see it. At least it was something, better than the cool indifference he’d been faced with since the feast. “Are you not worried that we’re going to be late?”

“Well… I’m afraid you’re going to be indisposed for the next few days.” Dorian put his hand on the doorknob and turned, “After your latest escape attempt, I just had to work with you, and I must have gone too hard?” His voice held a tint of innocence. The door swung open at his touch, and he heard Abraham draw in a sharp breath behind him.

“Dorian, this…” 

He stepped inside, and after a moment Abraham followed. “It took me a while to get things set up,” Dorian bit his lip, letting Abraham push past him. 

Sitting to one side was something like a bedroom, a low, straw-stuffed cot was set beside a cold stove. He’d brought a bundle of traditional foods for the seasons down earlier, per Marcus’ instructions. There were books scattered around the room, packed into shelves and piled into corners. Dorian had tried long ago to read them, but he didn’t recognize the language. A few tattered tapestries hung around the room, bearing the symbol of the royal family usurped by the Red Queen. He’d hung decorations of the season over them.

The centerpiece, however, sat against the far wall. An altar radiated its age from the stone it was worked from. The statues of the Twins staring down at them with a heavy sense of judgement. The bowls needed for whatever rituals Abraham performed were laid at their feet, obviously modern. 

Dorian went around the room, lighting candles while Abraham stared transfixed at the altar. He looked like a man who had just been struck. It reminded Dorian of the look in his eyes when he sank so deeply into subspace, a look of love and devotion so strong that it made his chest ache. Or perhaps that was the warm glow of the candles, giving the entire room an intimate feel.

“How?” Abraham’s voice shook.

“I found this place years ago by accident. I suspect it’s leftover from before the Queen’s reign. I thought…” He bit his lip, unused to feeling so unsure, “I know in Tinian the winter holidays look different, and I know you’ve been… listless without your rituals and faith. I can’t offer you much, but-” Dorian cut himself off, embarrassment making his skin pickle. “It seems Marcus likes you more than he likes me. He filled in the gaps of my knowledge. I brought you food and drink. I set up this decorations.

“I cannot let you stay here permanently, but I thought you might like a space that is more to your liking. An escape of sorts.” Abraham was still watching him, his eyes wide and fixed on his face. “Well? Say something.” Dorian snapped.

“You set this up for me?” 

“Come now, use the brain I know you have. Yes, though most of it was already here, but I got my fair share of burns.” He held up one gloved hand and Abraham’s eyes dropped to it as if he could see it. 

Dorian was caught off guard by the emotion in Abraham’s eyes. Abraham stepped forward, taking his face between warm palms. Before Dorian could react, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips so sweet that he forgot how to breathe. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Thank you, is usually appropriate.” Dorian stepped out of his touch, his cheeks tingling with the sensation. 

“I don’t think thank you is strong enough.” Abraham stepped forward again, and Dorian reached out, laying his hand on his chest. 

“Then enjoy it.” 

“Join me?” Abraham’s expression was so ernest, and Dorian felt his chest squeeze. 

His gaze flickered to the disapproving statues, “I suspect I’m not welcome.” 

“Not for that part, for the… ritual but after… there’s usually drinking and conversation. Gifts, though… you’ve already given me yours.” 

“And you have nothing for me.” 

“I’m sure I can think of something,” there was a warmth in Abraham’s voice that coiled at the base of his spine with the suggestion.

“I’m afraid my dance card is full for the night.” 

“Then come after the party. Come in a few days. Typically it’s spent with friends and loved ones. I… would like you to join me.” 

“And which one am I?” Dorian couldn’t help but ask. He watched Abraham’s cheeks flush with warmth, “I will make no promises, but perhaps I will join you. In the meantime,” Dorian looked around the room, “Enjoy this. This room is my gift to you.” 

Abraham shot a glance to the altar behind him, and Dorian inclined his head, “Goodnight, Ser Radcliff. I will come to collect you in three days if you do not return on your own.” He’d meant for it to sound like a threat, but he couldn’t seem to muster the bite.

Dorian turned to leave, and a small part of him wished Abraham would call him back. He felt like he’d left something behind as he mounted the stairs in the dark, his heart long since dead squeezing in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!! I hope you liked this one, I've been so excited for it!
> 
> I do have some sad news, there won't be a chapter next week because I'm moving into my new apartment. My partner and I are finally moving in together. But! we'll resume with regular posts on the 31st!
> 
> Seriously, thank you all so much for reading and supporting this work. I am so grateful for everyone who reads, and doubly grateful for those of you that comment and interact with the story
> 
> I'm always down to talk on my social media  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
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> My twitter has the bonus of getting snippets and story updates and occasionally recs for whatever I'm reading at the moment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two different holiday celebrations. Also Dorian struggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new tags this chapter!
> 
> Hi everyone! Thank you for being patient with me with the delay! We're officially all moved in, but it also means this chapter wasn't quite as long as I would have liked. Regardless! Enjoy! We're finally seeing these two start to take some steps forward! As always, thank you all for reading and hello to anyone who joined recently!

Dorian crossed his leg over his knee, his smile fixed in place so tightly that he thought his face might crack. The bench was cold under his thighs, the frozen stone unable to warm with his meager body heat. He dragged his nails over the thin cloth of his pants, and imagined what it would be like to rip the tongue out of the mouth of the woman he was talking to. She’d been talking incessantly, leaning forward to touch Dorian’s knee every time she wanted to emphasize something. She’d introduced herself as one of the Queen’s soldiers usually stationed along the border. She was young, younger than Dorian, and freshly turned. She clearly didn’t know who he was. It was why they were having this conversation at all. 

“Is that so?” Dorian said when the man looked at him expectantly. She was attractive enough. Soft curly brown hair and wide green eyes. Under normal circumstances, perhaps he would even invite her to bed. Now, he could barely follow the thread of the conversation. Things were not going to plan. The information he got from nobility was lacking. Dorian had hoped this party would afford him the chance to reforge connections he’d lost. No one was outright rude to him, but there was a distance there, a wariness that had been easier to breach a hundred years ago when he’d been human. That had been before he’d built a reputation of ruthless ambition.

It didn’t help that everything about this party grated on him. Even out here, he could hear the swell of voices, the tittering of laughter. It was only by coming out here that he could escape the twinkling lights. Perhaps Abraham was onto something about quiet holidays. Still, he’d hoped to make connections even if he couldn’t get information. 

Try as he might, no one would speak to him about the peace talks. He’d managed to pull from a few unguarded minds that they were still happening, but there was little beyond that. Any time he tried to follow a line of inquiry, he hit a wall. If he wasn’t being politely turned down by the Queen’s closest advisors - further proof of how far out of favor he’d fallen - Dorian couldn’t get information out of anyone who stood against her. Once upon a time, he’d been the ears of the Queen. Every word that passed to him flowed to her. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. Those old enough to remember knew that he’d sold out his own brother to prove his loyalty. He would have wielded the blade that killed him if asked.

Everyone knew, after all, and if the reality differed from that narrative, then what did it matter?

“...and if I’m lucky, I’ll be here permanently in a few months.” The hand was back on his thigh. 

“Is that so?” Dorian repeated. He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward as if interested. “Why might that be?” 

The woman’s face brightened, no doubt she’d caught Dorian’s attention at last. “I’m not supposed to say this,” She leaned forward, her hand sliding up onto Dorian’s thigh. Dorian imagined how it might feel to reach down and snap her fingers just to get her to stop  _ touching _ him. “But I’m being sent on a  _ very _ important mission. One that could be instrumental in destabilizing Tinian once and for all.” 

Dorian’s skin prickled with discomfort. He sat up, his lungs aching as he forced his breathing into something even. “How do you mean?” 

“I really shouldn’t…” She seemed suddenly worried, snatching her hand away from Dorian’s leg. She looked at him like she was just seeing him for the first time.

Dorian ground his teeth behind his encouraging smile, “Come now. I won’t tell anyone.” It was his turn to lean forward, his expression wide and open. “Please, I’m just curious.” 

“Curious about what?” Elias interrupted, giving Dorian a cool, knowing smile. 

“About why you’re out here bothering me and not at your own party.” Dorian shot back.

“Well, my Prince, I wanted to see you when I invited you.” He said his title like he was mocking him. The soldier he’d been speaking to shot him a panicked look, and Dorian gave her a sharp-toothed smile. He pulled at the thread of her thoughts, relishing the way she stiffened in pain at the sudden intrusion. She wasn’t supposed to tell him anything. 

“Leave us.” Elias ordered, watching as the woman scrambled away so he could take her seat. He pulled his pet into his lap, their silver dress spilling over his thighs. They tipped her head into his shoulder with a soft, contented sigh. 

Dorian asked, watching the pet with a cold, calculating look. They looked so content together. He wondered if he should tell her that Elias had no intention of turning her. Elias was notorious for not turning his human lovers, and wouldn’t continue a relationship with them after they’d been turned if they found someone else.

“It’s not like you to be out here alone.” Elias pressed. He gave Dorian another knowing smile, “Is your little project rubbing off on you? It’s unfortunate he couldn’t be here tonight.”

“Hardly. He tried to escape again.”

“Did he? And after he did so well before. Perhaps you don’t have as good a hold on him as you think.” Dorian knew there wasn’t a safe answer to that. Elias was watching him. He hooked his arm around his pet’s wasit, pulling her flush against his body. “You don’t want to be here.”

“Is that so?” Dorian replied. 

“Please don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve known you for a very long time, Dorian.” Elias smiled when Dorian said nothing, “I was going to offer you a gift of one of my own pets for the holiday, but… I think I’d rather give you a chance to… correct Abraham’s behavior.” 

“I’m here for a reason.”

“You’re not going to find what you want here.” Dorian scowled at him and Elias continued, “If you really want to know what’s happening, perhaps you should try for some transparency.” 

Dorian’s frown deepened. “Are things really as bad as I heard?”

Elias’s expression softened, “I’m not the person to ask about that. I’m not interested in the politics of all of this.” 

“If she’s planning on truly invading Tinian-”

“Then perhaps you should look for that information somewhere other than a party. When everyone is trying to have fun,” Elias fixed Dorian with a firm look, “If only you knew that General Hayes was invited to the palace next week. My mother will be there. She’s been asked to sit in as it seems Prince Victor can’t make it.” Prime Minister Rayland had always had a soft spot for him.

“General Hayes?” Dorian’s throat closed around the name. He’d known that there was someone he could get information from, but the price for it was always much higher than he was willing to pay. He’d been the reason Dorian had become Prince at all, so strong was his connection to the Queen. 

“Consider that bit of information my gift to you. Now, go, enjoy the rest of your holiday… correcting your errant pet, or whatever it is you want to pretend you’re doing.” Elias’ hand slid down to his own pet’s hip. “That’s what I’ll be doing.” 

Dorian stood, his legs numb from the cold. “Thank you.” Elias didn’t even bother to wave him off as he drew the woman down for a kiss. 

*

Dorian stood in the perfect darkness of the stairway, listening to the sound of Abraham moving from just beyond the door. A small part of him had hoped when he’d returned to his rooms that Abraham would be there waiting, but all that greeted him was a still silence. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to go find him. He’d said ‘join me’ in the same way lovers asked him to come to bed. He would have scraped the feelings that left in his chest out if only because it made his room feel even more empty without him. 

Dorian had resolved himself to wait it out. However, with nothing to do and no one he wanted to see, a heavy weight had settled in his stomach. He felt prickly, restless. Not in the habit of lying to himself, he found himself standing in front of the door, the night after he’d left him there. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to knock. He didn’t know if Abraham had just been polite in offering for him to stay. Despite the intensity in his eyes when he’d said it, Dorian was nothing to him but his captor. He was the man maneuvering him like a chess piece. 

Still… he wouldn’t feel better until he was turned away in person.

Taking a deep breath, Dorian knew he couldn’t stand out here. The air around him was cold and stale, the darkness that cloaked him felt heavy. It did nothing to lift the miserable mood that had taken hold of him. Dorian squared his shoulders and knocked firmly on the door. He heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by the careful slide of footsteps on stone. “It’s me.” he said, and he heard a sigh of relief just before the door opened.

Framed by the warm glow of light, Abraham cut an intimidating figure. He looked down at Dorian, and he found himself struck by the differences between them. Abraham’s lips quirked into a smile, and Dorian’s heart squeezed. He held up the bottle he held, “Were you serious about wanting company?” 

“Of course. I was just…” he stepped back, “Come in.” 

Tension coiled in Dorian’s stomach. He looked past Abraham, into the warm, inviting light of the room. He could feel the press of cold air against his back. He felt like he was intruding. There was something far too intimate about this, so different from the parties and festivals he knew were happening all over the city. It felt strange, not being among them, not trying to pry information or gain a leg up on his goals.

Abraham cocked his head to the side, confusion written across his face. The room seemed so inviting. It would be nice to finally relax for a bit.

Dorian took a step forward. 

The room hadn’t changed overmuch since he’d left Abraham here, but he couldn’t explain what was different. There was a hum in the air, not relaxing, but not scraping either. Dorian had never been particularly sensitive to magic, not in the way Abraham seemed to be. He could feel it now though. The stone of the altar seemed to glow, the stern-faced gods looking down at them seemed to fill the space, to choke the air around him. Dorian gaged slightly. He couldn’t stay here. He’d known it was a bad idea. He wasn’t  _ welcome. _ Not here, not at the party. 

Abraham stepped in front of them, his brows drawn together. “Dorian?” He seemed to glow as well. His dark skin radiated a golden warmth that was far more calming than it was off putting. Dorian found himself wanting to lean into it.

“You look well,” Dorian said. He looked healthier than he had in weeks. Guilt curdled in his stomach. Had he known this was all Abraham needed he would have brought him here sooner.

“Dorian are you all right?” Abraham asked. He started to reach for him, and Dorian stepped away.

“Yes… just…” Dorian ran a hand through his hair, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. “You invited me here.” 

“I did?” Abraham said, “Is that a problem?” 

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Dorian admitted, his voice soft. “The party didn’t go as planned. So I thought…” he looked around the room, unsure why he felt so ill.

Abraham reached out again. He took the bottle from Dorian’s hands, examining it in the light. “You’re more than welcome here. I was just finishing up with the roast you brought me.” He turned away. “Why don’t we start with a drink?” 

Abraham, it seemed, had explored the room. One of the books was laid out on the table, the ancient, faded handwriting hard to read even without the language barrier. Dorian pulled the book towards him with a frown while Abraham produced glasses that Dorian had stored here more than a century before. The sharp smell of wine floated above the smell of cooking meat. Abraham set the glass down in front of him. 

“ _ Sluic _ ,” Abraham said, lifting his glass, his gaze expectant. 

“Pardon?”

“It’s something we always say before we drink this time of year.” He offered with a sheepish smile. “I think it means something like…  _ Peace be with you  _ in ancient Sylorian. It’s bad luck not to.”

Dorian lifted an eyebrow and picked up his glass, “ _ Sluic _ to you as well then,” He tossed back his drink, the warmth spreading on the back of his throat. “I didn’t know you spoke Sylorian. That’s impressive.” Sylor was once the name of the land before their countries split. Dorian honestly didn’t know much about it save that it was thousands of years ago.

“A lot of our holy texts are written in it.” Abraham said, flushing at the praise. “I learned because I wanted to read them.”

“Most scholars can’t. I think Marcus only knows the basics.” 

Abraham flushed deeper. “My reading is a lot better than my speaking, but… thank you.” 

Dorian let out a tired sigh, taking another sip of his wine. It was good, even better that he’d pilfered it from Victor’s private stock. 

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Abraham pressed. He turned back to the small stove, lifting the lid on a pot and filling the room with the scent of spices and cooked meat. 

“Yes,” Dorian’s response was automatic. When Abraham didn’t say anything he shook his head, “No… but I don’t think I want to talk about it.” 

“That’s all right.” 

Dorian blinked at him. He’d expected him to press, to make demands, but Abraham instead looked over his shoulder, sympathy in his expression. Dorian felt that tight, fluttering feeling in his chest again. “So… what are you cooking? I’ll admit, I didn’t much pay attention to what I requested from the kitchens.” 

“It’s a roast.” Abraham waved him closer, and Dorian peered over his shoulder. A large hunk of meat and potatoes simmered. It reminded Dorian of home, though it didn’t smell particularly appetizing. “It’s tradition, usually we hunt the boar ourselves and cook it together. Those of us that aren’t out traveling at least.” Abraham smiled sadly. “I didn’t enjoy the hunt as much, but it’s a good time to bond with your fellow knights. It’s an unofficial rite of passage after you take your vows to be invited on the hunt.” 

“That sounds… quiet.”

“It was.” Abraham pulled the pot off the heat, setting it aside to rest, “Many of us didn’t have families to return to, so we only really had each other.” 

“Do all knights have the social skills of a house cat or is that just you?”

Abraham chuckled, “Not everyone can have my level of charm. But no… many of us are a little awkward, but I don’t think most of us are as adverse to crowds,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I guess that’s why I wasn’t a priest, despite my best efforts.” 

That explained his knowledge of long dead languages. Dorian glanced at the book. It meant he could read these texts. If there was information on the origin of their kind… He shook his head, pushing it aside. He’d come here to get away from his scheming. “So… you hunt, you eat, what else?” 

Abraham frowned, “Drinking… lots of drinking. Usually with that comes all sorts of bad ideas. It’s not uncommon for us to end up sabotaging the Captain’s office in some way. We exchange gifts, play card games.” Abraham set about filling his plate, topping off both of their drinks.

“Drinking, mischief, and card games? And here I thought you were a bunch of pious knights. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you described the celebration of a mercenary.” Dorian teased. 

“We’re still people.” Abraham insisted. He sat cross-legged by the stove, a bowl in his lap. The room was surprisingly warm. Dorian perched on the edge of the small cot. He felt surprisingly content, listening to Abraham talk about his favorite holiday memories. It was the most words he’d heard him string together at one time, his talk becoming more and more animated as the night went on.

Abraham introduced him to one of the games he enjoyed: a word challenge where someone began a story, and someone else finished it, the winner being the person who could continue the longest. Abraham was surprisingly good, winning the first round though he declared it practice. Dorian stalked around the room when his turn came. Sometime throughout the night, he’d lost his boots, the laces of his shirt trailing as his sweeping gestures helped him tell an elaborate tale of a young milk-maid who married a fish. Abraham watched him with bright eyes and a look that Dorian might have thought was hungry, if he didn’t know he was chaste.

Dorian felt the warm buzz of drink as they finished the first bottle. He went to one of the cabinets, pulling out a glass bottle filled with an amber liquid, pouring each of them a generous amount. He plopped down on the edge of the bed again, his throat singing with how much talking they’d done.

“I think you won.” Abraham teased. 

“What’s the prize?” 

“Typically an easier patrol.” Abraham admitted. He sat down beside Dorian, “Though I’m sure you could name your prize.” For a moment, that heat simmered between them. Dorian bit his tongue to stop the words that threatened to spill. Abraham’s breath caught. He could almost see his pulse fluttering under his skin. Dorian didn’t move as Abraham slid slightly away, and pulled his drink towards him, sniffed it, and took a small sip, “What is this?” His words were slurred, spots of color blooming on his high cheekbones.

“A gift from an old friend. I hid it down here while I was still human.” Dorian hummed, glad for the change of subject, “Couldn’t trust anyone in the servant’s quarters not to steal your shit.” Abraham grinned, and Dorian blinked at him, “What?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse.” 

Dorian’s answering smile felt far more genuine than it usually did. “Maybe I just like you.” He said, but the meaning hung between them. Maybe he was just comfortable around Abraham. 

“When did this happen?”

“Hm?” 

“This!” Dorian waved a hand towards him, feeling warm and sated for the first time in so long. “You! I thought you hated me.” 

Abraham pulled away, “I don’t hate you. I haven’t for… a while now.” 

Dorian turned his head, Abraham’s face was so close to his own. He swallowed, “No? You could have fooled me.” His gaze slid over Abraham’s face. His eyes were bright. His facial hair had gotten long, but it only gave him more of a rugged look that Dorian was only just now realizing that he enjoyed. Abraham looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen him, and it was like a magnate. Dorian clenched his hand to stop himself from touching, teeth digging into his lip. 

“I might have at first…” Abraham admitted, “But I don’t know, I trust you?”

A note of desperation rang in his voice. “Why?” Abraham blinked at him, and Dorian tried not to shift under his gaze.

“I just find that… you’re not as heartless as you’d like people to believe.”

“No?” Dorian wanted absolution. Everyone treated him like he was untrustworthy. He’d spent the better part of a century building that reputation. He’d destroyed someone he loved to probe a point. The thought of Merrick made his stomach churn. He and Abraham looked nothing alike, but it was hard not to look at him and see another man that he might yet destroy with his ambition.

“No.” Abraham’s conviction was firm. His voice breaking through the black thoughts that threatened to consume him. “I had a lot of time to think today. You’re always so much more considerate than I expect you to be. Even on the road when you were being an asshole, you never… did as much as you could have.” He waved his hand, a broad clumsy gesture, “I’ve seen how things are here. You’re holding back.” 

“You haven’t seen as much as you think.” Dorian didn’t know what his expression betrayed. He felt like he’d been struck. “You don’t know who I am.” 

“I know enough.” Abraham reached out. His fingers closed around Dorian’s knee, and the familiar discordant note rang through him in his discomfort. Above it though was heat, desire that spread through him. He found, to his surprise, that he wanted Abraham to touch him. He didn’t want him to. He could feel the eyes of the statue on his back, a silent threat. Abraham wasn’t his to claim. The thought that Abraham might not be allowed to return to his life after this, that he could ruin everything for him was almost too much.

Dorian cleared his throat, lifting and eyebrow as he shifted his leg away from his touch. “You’ll excuse me if I’m a bit too drunk for this kind of conversation..” He felt the wall slide back between them, and something in his chest squeezed.

Abraham sat up straighter, “My answer won’t change in the morning.” 

How could Abraham be so honest? Dorian couldn’t help but feel disarmed by him. He was used to living in a tangled web, but Abraham’s honesty was a knife to all of that.  _ Did you change your mind about your last drunken confession? _ The words stuck on his tongue like a bitter pill. Instead, Dorian looked around the room. He climbed to his feet, the stone cold against his skin. “You promised to teach me a card game?”

Abraham blinked, his brow drawn at the sudden change of topic. “Right.” He followed after him, scooping up a deck of cards made flimsy by age. He nodded to the spot across from him. “It’s pretty easy, actually. We call it  _ The Banished Price. _ ” Dorian listened to the rules and it seemed more based on luck than anything. By randomly trading and getting rid of pairs, the goal was to be left with the Prince card in the end, the “fate” of the prince determined by the types of pairs you had on your side of the board. 

Dorian bit his lip. Abraham seemed happy to explain things to him, and even give him a practice round, but his old, competitive nature couldn’t let him tell the man that he knew this game well. They’d called it something else, but it was one of Allissa’s favorites. “So, what do you usually play for?” 

“Gold or light duty.” Abraham replied, “Though I don’t have either to bet.” 

“Then let’s make things more interesting.” Dorian leaned forward, his elbow on his knee. “Clothes.” 

“Clothes?” 

“Have you never bet your garments before?” Dorian knew he was playing with fire. He saw Abraham clance behind him, at the disapproving altar as if it would come alive and strike him down. “You don’t have to get naked,” Dorian coaxed, “But it’ll be fun. I promise nothing will happen that you wouldn’t approve of.” There was a sincerity in his voice. He’d said the same thing before, swearing that he wouldn’t touch Abraham in any way that would ruin his vows.

“Okay…” Abraham nodded, “But a practice round first. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, shorter than I wanted. I'd PLANNED for there to be some spice to this chapter, but between moving and my new job, I'm beat. I won't make any promises, but I think things might finally come to a breaking point next chapter. I can never tell what these two are going to do. I wanted to cut it a little short because if I'm going to write a sex scene, I want to do it justice...
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> Thank you all so so much for sticking with me and for reading. Every time I hear that someone binged it, or checks every week or something, I get so happy and excited. You guys really keep me going with this story when I get stuck!
> 
> I'm always down to talk on my social media  
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> My twitter has the bonus of getting snippets and story updates and occasionally recs for whatever I'm reading at the moment!


	10. Chapter 10*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Abraham make a few bets, and things finally come to a head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling when you finally take off your binder/bra/too-tight pants at the end of the day and you just feel so relieved? That's what I feel right now as these two finally fucking DO something. I wouldn't call their sexual tension resolved, but things finally came to a breaking point. I kept the language around Dorian's anatomy vague-ish since using gendered language for genitals can be a bit touchy. While I have no problem with calling my body parts certain things, I know others do, so I just avoided it all together but made it very clear that he's got a vagina. Just in case anyone forgot that Dorian's a trans man ;)
> 
> Chapter marked with a * to mark it as explicit 
> 
> New Tags: Handjobs, Sexual Favors as Bets, Sexual Tension

Abraham knew he was being played halfway through their third game. Dorian could tell by the way his brow furrowed every time another one of his face cards was taken. His lips pursed into a scowl that reminded Dorian so much of a disapproving nun that it was difficult to keep a straight face. Dorian had purposely let him win the first two rounds, stripping off his already half-unlaced shirt and tunic underneath. Dorian made a show of not being ashamed of his body. He’d kept his corset on, it’s design such that it not only bound his chest but created something of a false front, hiding any unwanted bumps in his shirt. 

Abraham spread out his cards face down for Dorian to pick from. He made a show of thinking about it, reaching out to pull from Abraham’s mind. He plucked a card from the spread, giving a triumphant smile as he paired off his last set of face cards. 

“I think that means I win, and you lose your shirt.” Dorian revealed his last card to be the joker. He set it down on top of the others.

Abraham leaned across the table, staring at his cards, “You cheated.” 

“Did I?” Dorian asked, his smile wide enough to show his fangs, “You think so lowly of me that you think I’d cheat just to win at a card game?” 

“I know you would.” 

Dorian grinned. “I don’t remember there being any rules about doing what it takes to win. Off with your shirt, Abraham, or I’ll take it off for you.” 

Abraham glared at him, though there wasn’t anger behind that look. Dorian saw the heat simmering behind his stare. He made no move to remove it.

Dorian leaned closer, “Come now, I know you’re not shy. You’ve been shirtless around me plenty of times.” When Abraham still didn’t move, Dorian’s lips pressed together in a thin smile, “No? Let’s try another tactic. Abraham?” His voice was heavy with power, thick and sweet. Abraham’s head snapped up, “Take off your shirt.” 

Abraham’s lips parted on a shaking exhale at the order. Dorian had never had Victor’s talents for compulsions, but he didn’t need them when people responded so sweetly to his commands. Abraham’s fingers hooked on the laces of his shirt. He tugged them loose and pulled it over his head with a smooth movement. Unlike Dorian, he wore nothing underneath. 

“See, was that so hard?” Abraham flushed, tossing his shirt at Dorian was a petulant look. Dorian’s laughter rang through the small room, “It’s not my fault that you make it so easy. Are you just so used to taking orders that you fall into line the second someone gives them?”

“Dorian?” 

He lifted a questioning eyebrow.

“Stop talking.” 

His smile softened, the flush to Abraham’s cheeks was delicious. Despite his reservations, he couldn’t help but poke. “Fine, fine.” He gathered his cards, sliding them back across the table. When Abraham reached for them, he trailed his fingers over the back of his hand. Abraham’s breath caught, and he drew his hand back. Dorian shifted onto his knees. He pressed his fingers to Abraham’s shoulder, to a knot of scar tissue there.

“What happened?” He’d seen him shirtless, but he’d never allowed himself to really look. He’d never acknowledged the scars that stretched across his skin, “They must have been pretty bad if your swift healing didn’t fix them. 

Abraham’s shoulder shifted under his touch. He reached up as if to grab Dorian’s wrist. Whatever he saw in his face stopped him. “It was the result of one of my first hunts.” 

Dorian got to his feet, circling around the low table so he could get a better look. The skin looked warped, as if someone had shoved something hot into the skin. “I’ve never seen a vampire do something like this in a fight.” 

Abraham hummed in affirmation, “I was still pretty green. I didn’t get my shield up in time and got bit. The wound had to be… purified.” 

“Pardon?”

“To… stop the infection?” When Dorian only blinked at him, Abraham flushed, “I mean if you get bitten… typically it causes your blood to rot, and with it your soul, and- don’t  _ laugh _ at me.” Abraham snapped, pulling away from Dorian’s grip. 

Dorian followed the movement, almost straddling his thigh as he pulled Abraham back to him. “I’m sorry,” Dorian couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in his throat, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to forgive me. Is  _ that _ how you think all of this works? It’s no wonder you were so resistant to my feeding on you. By the gods, Abraham. What must you think  _ now _ after I’ve fed on you more than a dozen times?” 

Abraham flushed further, and made as if to shove Dorian off. The vampire captured his wrist, squeezing gently, but with the slightest threat his claws. “Stop.” 

“Don’t sulk. I’m genuinely curious.” Dorian reached up with his free hand, hooking a finger under Abraham’s chin to tip it upwards, “Is that what you think happens when I bite you?” 

Abraham wouldn’t meet his gaze, but he didn’t try to pull away again. “...I figured it out eventually.”

Dorian pressed his lips together to hide his glee, but his chest shook with laughter, “No  _ wonder _ you were so angry when I suggested feeding.” 

Abraham scowled at him. He jerked his chin out of Dorian’s grip, and he let him. “It’s not funny.” 

“I assure you it is.” He looked down at him, and the realization of just how close they were setting a fire in his stomach. He’d slid so easily into Abraham’s lap. Dorian squeezed his thighs on either side of Abraham’s leg. It shifted under him as if he too were realizing how readily he’d accepted Dorian’s touch. Dorian could almost see the pulse jumping under Abraham’s skin. It would be easy, he realized, to lean down and press his lips to where his blood ran hot and strong. Easier still was the movement that would draw him downwards so that he could press himself against the broad thigh between his legs. Abraham’s eyes were wide, a deep brown framed by dark lashes. His skin still had that golden glow. It was more of a feeling than a visual: nearly imperceptible but spreading like warmth through his skin. Behind him, the stern-faced gods watched, their own glow far less welcoming.

“Perhaps we can make the next round more interesting.” Abraham murmured. He was still looking up at Dorian, his hands coming up hovering but not quite touching him.

Dorian hummed his question. 

“If you win, you get to feed from me.” 

Dorian’s smile sharpened, “Ah, I see. And what if you win, Ser Radcliff.” Abraham’s flush deepened. He looked away, glaring past Dorian’s shoulder as his lips pressed to a thin line. Dorian couldn’t help himself. He peeked into his head, the slow swirl of his thoughts said the words that could not reach his lips. Dorian laughed, “Oh no, Abraham that’s not how this works.” he hooked his fingers under his chin again, leaning forward until their faces were hardly a breath away. “If you can’t tell me what you want, then you can’t have it.” 

“You know what I’m thinking.” 

“I don’t play that game, Abraham.” he said his name with a hard deliberateness, “If you are not able to verbally tell me, then I don’t feel comfortable crossing any previously set boundary.

Seconds ticked by, and Dorian wondered if he shouldn’t just put a stop to this. He doubted Abraham had the vocabulary to even express what he wanted. Dorian didn’t know if he was comfortable giving it to him. What if- 

“I want you to touch me.” Abraham’s voice was hardly audible. 

“Touch you where?” 

A growl of frustration, “Dorian-”

“This isn’t some game,” the vampire replied. “I’m not deliberately teasing you. I won’t cross your boundaries, and if you don’t set any, I’ll assume nothing is on the table.” 

Another stretch of silence before Abraham finally spoke, “I want you to touch my… penis.” 

Dorian’s smile sharpened, “How very clinical of you.” He felt Abraham shift under him, as if to push him off. He went with the movement, to climb easily to his feet, “Deal the cards.” 

Abraham was quiet as he shuffled the deck. His face was warm. Dorian could see the sheen of sweat on his neck. His gaze dropped lower, the sight of the bulge between his legs making his mouth water. Embarrassment suited him well, then. Something Dorian could tuck away for later.

The air in the room seemed far thicker as they went about their game. Any light banter they’d had on previous rounds had given way to the sound of whispering cardstock, and a heavy weight in the air like the moments before a lightning strike. Dorian didn’t cheat on this round. No matter what Abraham thought of him, he wouldn’t take something from him without his permission. He’d had enough of that in his life. 

When the round finally came to an end, Dorian laid out his cards, the Joker on top. “I win again, it seems.” 

Abraham didn’t protest as he’d expected him to. He met Dorian’s gaze and there was heat there, simmering behind the surprise. He held out his hand in silent offering. 

Dorian walked slowly around the table, his fingertips dragging over the scarred wood, sending a whisper hissing through the air. He could hear Abraham’s breathing, sharp on the inhale, and let his gaze rake down his bare chest. He’d gotten softer, in the weeks that they’d spent here. Some of the muscle he’d possessed on the road had melted to fat, something Dorian had always found appealing. And, between his spread legs, Abraham was already hard. Dorian deliberately laid a hand on his chest. Abraham jumped, his heart beating like a trapped thing under his kin.

He didn’t move when Dorian slid into his lap with an ease and familiarity that made him wonder just how things had changed between them without him noticing. He pressed his lips to the shell of his ear, fangs grazing against the delicate skin there. Abraham let out a delicious moan. Very deliberately, Dorian settled so that he was pressed against him. He ground down against his cock, another sweet sound slipping from him. Abraham lifted his hands, closing them around Dorian’s waist the same moment he struck, dragging a heady groan of main and pleasure from him.

Abraham reacted immediately. Dorian didn’t drink deeply - he’d fed from him recently enough that he didn’t want to harm him - but he didn’t need to. The knight’s hips rolled upwards, grinding himself between Dorian’s legs. His moans were barely contained, started and ending in his throat as the taste of his blood tingled on Dorian’s tongue. He wanted to draw more of those sounds from him. 

Dorian’s hand dropped between them, his fingers tracing along the hard outline of his cock through the trousers he wore. He pressed his palm to it. His own hips stuttered forward, heat and wetness making his entire lower half tingle. He drew back too soon, lapping at the wound. He wanted so much, the enormity of it threatened to overwhelm him. Abraham’s chest was heaving, his fingers digging into Dorian’s hips in a way that made him want to see how he’d react when he was inside him. 

He started to lean down to kiss him, but his eyes fell on the altar of the half-burnt offerings on it’s stone, Abraham’s holy symbol winking in the dim light like an accusation. 

“We should stop,” Dorian cursed the words as they fell from his lips. “We should…” He struggled to get his feet under him, his legs trembling. He cursed that too. He wasn’t some simpering teenager, desperate for his first ride. “We should stop.” 

“Why?” Abraham’s fingers curled around his wrist, and Dorian pulled against it even as it sent warmth singing through his blood. 

“Because, it’s not right.” 

“You started it.” there was an accusation in his voice.

“I know,” Dorian pressed a hand over his face, “I know, I just can't do this - not with you.” Abraham let him go, but hurt turned down the corners of his mouth. Dorian didn’t need to read his mind to know exactly how much that rejection stung. “Lest you forget, you’ll be returning home after this is all said and done. I wonder how readily they would accept you if they knew you’d fucked a vampire.” 

Abraham didn’t say anything. Dorian let the small, vindictive pleasure of dashing his hopes turn in his stomach. “Why are you pushing me away?” Warm fingers curled around his wrist again, pulling him close, “Dorian? I… I thought we were on the same page. If I’m wrong then tell me, but let me worry about what happens after.” 

Dorian looked down at the hand on his wrist, his brown skin a sharp contrast to Dorian’s own paleness. He was so warm. It made Dorian want to lean into it. He let out a shaking breath. “Do I have to have a reason? Is it not enough to say I don’t want you like that?”

“It is if I didn’t think you were lying to me.” Abraham tugged gently, urging Dorian to look at him. “Please… just talk to me?” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Dorian hated himself. He pulled hard in Abraham’s grasp, but he didn’t let him go. “I don’t want to be the reason your life is in shambles.” 

“I can make that decision for myself.” Abraham pulled again, and Dorian let himself be tugged into his lap. “I can make the decision about what I want.” 

“Can you?” Dorian reached out, laying his hand on Abraham’s cheek. He felt ridiculous. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. I can’t imagine your education in Tinian was comprehensive.” 

“Then show me.” Abraham always looked so earnest. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright. 

Dorian reached out, cupping Abraham’s cheek as his resistance crumbled in the face of such emotion. He leaned forward. Abraham’s lips slightly chapped, but no less warm and inviting. If he could taste his own blood, it didn’t show. Abraham returned the kiss with clumsy lips and Dorian hummed in encouragement. If he was to damn him he may as well make it good.

His tongue darted out to swipe along Abraham’s bottom lip. A hum of approval slipped from his lips when he parted them for him. Dorian could taste the liquor he’d been drinking, and could feel the intoxicating warmth of his body. He wondered if it was part of their curse, to always crave the warmth of life. 

Dorian dragged his hands up Abraham’s chest. He pushed him back, eyes roving over his face. Abraham pressed back chasing his lips, his hands coming up to grip Dorian’s hips. Dorian dragged his nails along his shoulders, his lips parting around a half-finished moan when Abraham pulled him more firmly against his lap. He could feel his cock hard and hot through the layers of their clothes. Dorian’s hands dropped to Abraham’s. He squeezed them as he pulled them away. 

“Are you always this eager? No, don’t answer that. I’d like to think you are.” He pressed Abraham’s hands to his sides, squeezing again as understanding sparked in Abraham’s eyes. He didn’t move them as Dorian hooked fingers under his jaw, stealing another slow, lingering kiss.

Every time Abraham rolled his hips upwards, Dorian felt it in his core. Each hesitant, seeking movement made him want to dig his fingers into his man and take what he wanted. Dorian pulled back again, watching Abraham’s face as his fingers spider walked down the man’s chest, feeling the muscles in his stomach jump when he traced his fingers along the waist of his pants. The sound Abraham made when he slipped his fingers inside was the most sinful sound he’d ever heard.

Dorian shifted back, cursing under his breath at the angle as he palmed him through his smallclothes, and Abraham’s head thumped backwards onto the back of the chair. He hissed in pain, but didn’t move his hands from his side. 

Interesting.

Dorian cocked his head. He withdrew his hand and slid off his lap, the sound of surprise and desperation that slipped from Abraham only stoked the heat in his stomach. “Don’t sound so disappointed. Take off your pants and lay on the bed.” Dorian’s voice was firm, but his core trembled with desire. He wanted him more than he’d wanted anyone in decades. It was a cruel twist of fate that Abraham was the one thing he couldn’t have.”So obedient. Good boy.” The praise slipped out automatically, and he saw Abraham’s shoulders stiffen as he lowered himself onto the small cot. 

The old, dry wood creaked under his weight. Dorian smiled as Abraham looked at him, hsi hands twisting as he clasped them on his stomach as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “Do you like that?” Dorian asked. He hooked his fingers in his own pants, drinking in the way Abraham’s gaze followed every flick of his fingers, “Answer me, Ser Radcliff.” 

“I…” Abraham’s voice was shaking. His cheeks looked warm, flushed with desire or embarrassment. “...yes.” 

“Very good.” Dorian drew out each word. He shimmied his pants down his hips, looking up at Abraham through the curtain of his hair. His own smallclothes followed, leaving him in only the carefully stitched corset, the dark fabric stark against his pale skin. Abraham drank in his every move. “By the gods, where have you been?” Dorian breathed. 

The cot creaked louder as he pressed his knee on one side of Abraham’s hips. The hand on his stomach twitched as if it wanted to touch, but it remained where it was. Dorian rewarded him by sliding his other leg upwards, straddling his thigh so that his skin brushed against Abraham’s cock. 

Leaning over him, Doiran pressed his fingers to Abraham’s lips. “Open.” He ordered. Abraham’s brows drew together but he obeyed, and Dorian wondered just how deep that obedience went. “Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.” Abraham’s brows drew together in confusion, but his tongue pressed against the bads of Dorian’s fingers. Dorian hummed in encouragement, his own hips rolling downwards to rub himself against Abraham’s thigh. He felt hot and wet, his skin too tight as he deliberately dragged his nails over Abraham’s tongue. 

Dorian’s eyes were on Abraham’s face as his hand, slick with spit, dropped between the man’s legs. He ghosted his fingers up the length of Abraham’s cock, causing his hips to jerk, his thigh to press more firmly between Dorian’s spread legs. He pressed his lips together around a moan, and wrapped his fingers around Abraham’s hard length. He was smaller than he’d expected, perhaps larger than average, but still not the enormous cock he’d imagined in the late nights when he’d desperately rubbed himself while thinking of the man in the next room. Abraham was hot in his hand. If the temperature difference between their skin bothered him, it didn’t show. Dorian felt like he was running hot. The blood he’d taken and his own arousal made his head swim. 

Abrhaam’s eyes were closed, his fingers digging into the mattress as Dorian experimentally dragged his thumb over the underside of his head. He made no noise, every exhale shook with a moan that didn’t quite make it off his tongue. Dorian wondered how often Abraham had pleasured himself in the barracks, the thought of him desperately trying to keep quiet. He wanted to push him, to see what it would take to get him to vocalize those sounds.

He kept his grip light, experimenting with different ways of touching him until Abraham’s hips jerked in his grasp.. He’d been so sure when he’d gotten up here that he’d wanted to feel his hard cock deep inside him, but now that he was here, he wasn’t so sure. IT had been a long time since anyone had fucked him, and Dorian didn’t know if he was ready for that now. 

Pre-cum beaded on his head, and Dorian swiped his fingers through it. Abraham’s hips twitched when Dorian focused on his head, his hand shooting down to grasp his wrist, “Too… too much much.” 

“Are we  _ sensitive? _ ” Dorian teased, though he went back to stroking his shaft, his thumb pressed to his slit on the upstroke.

“ _ Yes! _ ” Abraham’s voice broke, his hips twitching upwards in desperation. “Gods I’m close.” 

“Go on then. Let me hear you.” Dorian’s hand moved faster. He leaned over Abraham. His fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his head to the bed with a punishing grip. His every sense was tuned into him, the way his face twisted, the way his breath hitched on every exhale around a moan. Dorian rubbed himself absently just above his knee. It sent sparks of pleasure dancing up his spine. Abraham choked out a half swallowed moan, painting his stomach with cum. All the while Dorian stroked him through it, his wrist twisting until Abraham’s hips arched off the bed and cries of pleasure fell from his mouth. 

Abraham’s hand shot down again, his grip too tight, “Enough… too much…” 

A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin. Dorian sat back, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. He tugged his hand in Abraham’s grasp, but he didn’t let go. He jumped when he felt a warm, broad hand on his thigh. The discordant note of discomfort still rang in him, but it was quieter now. Abraham didn’t try to touch him anywhere else, his fingers curling and uncurling along his skin. “May I?” He looked into Abraham’s questioning face and nodded in silent permission.

Dorian let out a soft breath as Abraham’s hand moved higher, his thumb rubbing gently at his folds. Nerves tightened the hot ball of desire in his stomach. 

“I might need a bit of direction.” Abraham sounded hesitant, the ghost of his fingers so close to that wet heat made Dorian bite his lip.

“Follow my lead.” He traced the line of his wrist, up the wiry tendons on the back of his hand, to curl his fingers overtop of Abraham’s. He pressed their fingers upwards, feeling Abraham’s hum of approval when he felt just how wet he was. Guiding him settled something inside Dorian. It was easier to lean into the pleasure. He moved Abraham’s fingers with his own, towards his entrance to gather more of that slick wetness. “I don’t… typically like penetration.” Abraham’s fingers caught on his hole, rough from years of swordplay, and for a moment Dorian reconsidered what it might feel like to have those thick fingers inside him. 

“But… If I’m not wet enough for you to touch me comfortably, you can enter me briefly and… help things along…” Dorian felt warm as he pressed Abraham’s index finger alongside his own inside him. He curled them both, his walls clenching. Abraham was watching with an intensity that was almost unnerving. He withdrew both their fingers. Spreading that slickness between his fold. “I much prefer if you touch…  _ here. _ ” Dorian’s breath shuttered out of him as he brushed Abraham’s fingers over his sensitive nub. “Rub gently, quick circles.” He pushed against Abrhaam’s fingers to show him, the man catching the rhythm and drawing a soft sound of pleasure from his throat. “Yes… like that.” 

Dorian shifted in his lap. He rose up on his knees to give Abraham better access, bracing a hand against the cool stone behind his head. Dorian kept his hand over Abraham’s. He didn’t move with it, letting him find his own rhythm. Eyes closed, it was easy to imagine Abraham was touching his cock. He could imagine himself hard, leaking as a hand moved against him. Dorian’s moan caught in his throat, his fingers curling. He imagined himself cumming, adding to the mess on Abrhaam’s chest. His thighs tightened around Abraham’s leg as his first orgasm rippled through him. 

“Harder.” He panted. Dorian’s hips twitched forwards, following the movement of Abraham’s hand, making those calloused fingers clumsy. He groaned in the back of his throat, voice pitching higher as he pressed harder, moving faster. 

“By the gods you’re breathtaking…” Abraham’s voice was wrecked, awe and arousal making Dorian’s body flush hot. He came again, legs shaking. Abraham didn’t let up, and he nodded.

“Please… please more…” It had been so long since he’d let someone touch him. Abraham’s other hand came up, gripping his hip a little too hard to hold him still as his fingers continued to work against him. Dorian’s voice broke as he came again, another, smaller orgasm following on the back of the third. He collapsed forward, crushing Abraham’s hands between his thighs as he stole a desperate kiss that had their teeth clicking together. Abraham’s hand smoothed up his back, into his hair to hold him there, kissing him hard and swallowing every sound that slipped from his lips. 

Another orgasm rippled through him, making his entire body stiffen and shake with the force of it, a low, dull cramp moving through his abdomen. Dorian slapped a hand on Abraham’s shoulder. He seemed to get the message, pulling his hand from between his legs, his fingers glistening with Dorian’s juices.

The vampire collapsed onto Abraham’s chest, his face pressed to his shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. He felt like he needed a bath. Abraham’s cum soaked through the fabric of his corset. It would make it difficult to clean but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Abraham’s fingers were still in his hair, tracing a hot line of fire down the back of his skull, along the back of his neck and back up again. Dorian’ couldn’t bring himself to care about that either. 

“So… what do you think? Is that what you wanted?”

“Dorian?” Abraham looked down at him, his deep brown eyes filled with an emotion that Dorian didn’t want to begin to unravel. 

“Hm?” 

“Stop talking.” 

That, at least, was easy enough to do. Dorian let his head rest back on Abraham’s chest, the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart lulling him into a relaxation he so rarely felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, finally getting to the erotica of this romance novel... after 100k words between both books. Whoops, I guess I had a lot more to say than I thought I did. I'm not very good at the whole... 'I'm only going to write smut' thing. Can you believe that my original plan when I started the Knight was to have them fuck the first time Dorian bit him? Lol idk who I thought I was kidding.
> 
> Anyway
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it! I know I loved writing it! More of course, to come next week! Thank you all so so much for reading, and for everyone who has shared or told other people about this. I've noticed an uptick in readers lately, and so they must be finding me somehow. You guys are amazing n_n
> 
> I'm always down to talk on my social media  
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> My twitter has the bonus of getting snippets and story updates and occasionally recs for whatever I'm reading at the moment!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Abraham's turn to struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you guys for being patient with me. Last week was... a lot. I really didn't have time to manage a chapter. But, here it is! Thank you to everyone who's been reading. Y'all are the reason why I keep going
> 
> No new tags this chapter

Abraham was warm. His limbs were loose, his fingers splayed against Dorian’s lower back. He didn’t move. He didn’t stroke or touch, and Dorian allowed it to stay. He didn’t know if the man was asleep. From this angle, as he could see was the explosion of curls at the top of his head. They were mussed. Abraham’s fingers tingled with the memory of dragging his fingers through it and holding him there for a kiss. He wanted to shift. Dorian had settled between his spread legs, the man’s body solid against his chest. If he was asleep, Abraham didn’t want to wake him. 

He was still naked, still messy. He could feel his own cum cooled on his skin. He told himself that wasn’t arousing, but a lazy heat spiraled in his stomach anyway. He was waiting for the guilt to cloud his mind, and perhaps it would still come, but right now, warm and sated, with Dorian sprawled on top of him, it was hard to think of anything else.

The guilt was there though. It clawed its way up his throat, dug fingers into his windpipe and squeezed. Abraham couldn’t look over at the altar he’d used not even twenty-four hours before. He felt the pulse of it like a second heartbeat. It felt like home, like a peace that he couldn’t find anywhere else. 

Though, that wasn’t true, he supposed. His scalp tingled with the sensation of Dorian’s fingers in his hair. The movement was so familiar at this point that just the thought of it sent gooseflesh prickling along his skin. Dorian shifted against his chest, a tired sigh pulling from his lips. 

Abraham stroked down his back, and Dorian shifted under his hand. An apology sparked on the tip of his tongue. He dropped his hand to his side. He couldn’t quite explain the discomfort he felt. Since Dorian had told him about the source of his nightmares, the thought of touching him at all made him feel dirty. He didn’t know where the boundaries for Dorian were. There were moments with others that he seemed to accept or even enjoy being touched, but Abraham had no way of knowing if that was anything more than a front. The thought that he might accidentally overstep a line he didn’t know existed sickened him almost as much as the pit that was growing in his stomach. 

He laid there for some time, mind whirling, and eyes tracing the cobwebs on the ceiling. Dorian did nothing but shift against him, perhaps getting more comfortable. Neither of them spoke, and Abraham couldn’t begin to explain why he felt so sundered. When sleep finally took him, he dreamed of nothing but bright lights and ruined battlements, and a cold, heavy weight on his chest. 

*

Exhaustion still clawed at him as he dragged himself from slumber. He felt heavy, as if his body was encased in ice and the chill was seeping into his bones. Abraham pressed his face to the thin pillow. If it weren’t for the scent of age and rot on it, he could pretend that he was back at the barracks. The tension that coiled in his stomach certainly fit the image. He wasn’t so much more comfortable at the grand cathedral than he was here that he hadn’t counted down the days until his next assignment. 

Abraham couldn’t understand how he could be so tired. He’d done little more than sleep and read since arriving here. Any contact he had was with Dorian, or had him standing quietly in the background, unsure what he was supposed to be observing. By all rights, he should feel well rested, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to get up. The bed next to him was still. Abraham cracked an eye open and stared at the empty bed, exhaustion yawning in him. 

He hadn’t expected to wake up alone.

The cot squeaked under his weight, and Abraham stared at the empty spot. Dorian’s clothes were gone. The boots that had been kicked carelessly by the door were gone. Abraham swallowed around the lump in his throat, and let the claws of exhaustion rake down his chest. He’d just left. Abraham knew that it likely hadn’t meant much to Dorian, but last night had felt significant. There had been something between them that Abraham didn’t have a name for.

The thought of the night before made his stomach twist. He couldn’t look at the statues across the room. Their grim faces stood as a reminder that it shouldn’t have happened at all. 

Abraham pushed himself out of bed. He couldn’t stay here. The room that before had felt so warm and inviting now closed in on him. The scene of cooking from the night before made his stomach turn. Abraham stumbled across the room, scooping up his discarded shirt as he went. He pulled it on without much thought of how much he needed a bath. He paused long enough to blow out the candles, casting himself into darkness. 

The echo of his footsteps through the stairwell did nothing to calm his nerves. The darkness seemed just as stiff and oppressive as the light, and the thought of reaching into that well of magic inside him to light his way made his stomach turn. Abraham barely remembered to check to see if there was anyone in the hall before stepping out fully. 

Had he thought the loud decor of the palace would be more comforting than what he could only assume was the only altar to his gods in the country? Could a windowless keep filled with creatures he’d been told were monsters bring any more comfort? Could anywhere? 

Abraham took a sharp turn, winding his way through the spiral of hallways. He didn’t know the palace well, but he knew if he could find the ballroom, he’d find the gardens. The desire to see the sky, even if it was nighttime, spurred him faster. He passed through several hallways, searching for a distinctive painting that Dorian had pointed out to him once. He thought if he could find it, he might be able to find the outside. It took him several attempts, frustration and panic sliding twin daggers into his stomach, but he burst into the empty ballroom. 

The floors were carefully polished, any sign of revelry gone. And, through the open curtains across the room, sunlight spilled across everything. It made the tapestries look far less busy, their details highlighted, the marble of statues gleaming. Abraham let out a choked sob of relief that echoed in the empty chamber. He crossed the room in nearly a run, bursting into the icy air and uncaring at how it stung his exposed skin. 

His fingers closed around a statue of a hunter, leaning against it as he tipped his face towards the sun. He couldn’t feel its warmth, the air around him far colder than inside, but that mattered less than seeing the brightness behind his eyes. Abraham pushed off of the statue, following in the direction the hunter’s bow was pointed. He found himself in a small, private alcove. It was wreathed in spiked winter bushes, and a bench mostly protected by the snow by the outstretched palms of another statue. The stone was cold and damp against his thighs, but the sun was nice, the patter of water from melting icicles gave his ears something to focus on. He didn’t know how long he sat there, only that eventually he mustered up the energy to create a small fire pit at the center, feeding it with his own energy since everything else was far too wet.

Abraham’s thoughts snared on every jagged edge of his mind. Every calming breath was punctuated with the reminder of where he was. As the sun crept towards the highest point and something approaching actual warmth, he was only reminded that in a few short hours he would be cast back into darkness. Worse still, was the reminder that eventually, he would be driven back inside. 

He knew eventually he would have to face Dorian. Everything about the man scraped at him. He was harsh and often cold. His values could not be any further from his own, and above all else, he seemed to be a liar. There had been little done, as far as Abraham was aware, the actually further the goals Dorian had claimed to have. He’d given him no direction and no idea what exactly he was meant to be observing or looking for. Even the promise of having access to military secrets had gone unfulfilled. 

His words from the night before echoed in his head.  _ I trust you. _ In the light of day, his grandiose speeches seemed silly. He knew Dorian would act in his own interests. Abraham scowled up at the sky. That said nothing for what else he’d said the night before. That guilt wasn’t one that was likely to leave him any time soon. 

The lump in his stomach tightened with the memory of how Dorian had touched him, and with it a fresh wave of guilt. He’d been the one to push things the night before. He felt dirty, soiled. It was as if the days he’d spent in prayer meant nothing. He felt like he’d given something of himself last night, and it hadn’t even mattered. Abraham groaned, pressing his palm to his face. He didn’t know how long he sat here, only that eventually he had to let the fire go, the train on his energy causing a headache to build at the base of his skull. 

Perhaps he should just talk to him. That would be easiest. He could ask Dorian where things lay on his end, though he didn’t think he would get a straight answer. The thought of trying to have that conversation made him cringe. What was he going to say?  _ ‘Hi, I have feelings for you that I don’t know how to name. I really like the way you touched me and now I feel guilty about it. _ Somehow he didn’t think that would go over well. He could almost hear Dorian’s admonishment, that he didn’t have time to deal with Abraham’s guilt, that it was ridiculous for feeling guilt at all. 

He looked deeper into the gardens, and wondered what would happen if he just tried to walk. Eventually he’d hit a wall, but he could probably get over it. They might try to find him, but he was confident in his ability to survive. Abraham closed his eyes, and the knot in his stomach tightened. Maybe he could just stay here, and hope no one would find him.

“If you wanted to freeze to death, there are perhaps better ways.”

Abraham shot to his feet, whirling to stare wide eyed at the vampire who managed to sneak up on him. 

“Don’t get up on my account.” Abraham recognized Prince Victor, though Dorian seemed to work to keep them from speaking despite how he’d spoken about him before they’d arrived. “ _ Sit down  _ I was hoping to get a chance to speak with you.” 

The command rocked through him, sparking along his veins. It scoured through him the same way it had the first time. Abraham fought it, his jaw locking as his knees turned to water. He hit the bench hard, sending a hard feedback through his back. 

“Much better.” Victor approached slowly. He was dressed so different from Dorian, his dark shirt unbuttoned and thin, as if he were impervious to the cold. He leaned against a statue, his stance casual but there was something dark behind his eyes that made Abraham squirm. “I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. Prince Victor Bremondt, oldest surviving child of her majesty,” When Abraham said nothing, he let out a disappointed sigh, “Typically it’s polite to introduce yourself in turn. Perhaps you do things differently down south.” He stepped closer, and fear sparked along his veins. He was trapped in this seat and unarmed. He didn’t even have his dagger. With his magic as weak as it was, he didn’t trust he could fight back if it came to that. “Nevermind, I know who you are. Ser Abraham Radcliff, yes? It’s quite an honor to host someone from such an esteemed order.” 

“The honor is mine, your majesty.” Abraham replied. Despite how Dorian had teased that he could insult him, Abraham’s every instinct told him to placate this man. 

Victor stopped a few feet away from Abraham, “I do wonder why my dear brother has kept us apart for so long. We used to share everything.” Ice settled in Abraham’s stomach. His thighs tensed with the urge to fight. He wasn’t some helpless kitten. He could still fight. He could still do something. “Not since he returned though. He barely speaks to me or our mother. I’m worried about him. Dorian has never been the most… stable.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Abraham’s mouth was dry, his lips sticking together with every word. He turned his mind inwards, picking at the knots that had wrapped around his mind. He’d never been good at resisting these sorts of things, but he’d had the training. If he could just get up… A headache formed at the base of his skull and flared outwards. 

“No? Surprising really, after what he did to his last pet. The poor man never recovered. He trusted Dorian  _ so _ much, and all it got him was two ruined eyes and a master that left him to fend for himself.” Victor was examining his nails, but his eyes turned to Abraham. He didn’t know what his face betrayed but the man smiled, “Ah, I suppose he didn’t tell you. Dorian’s violence is very well known this side of the border, why do you think he has his little playroom? It’s not for sex… at least not usually. I think he always felt inferior, and then after he got what he wanted,” Victor shrugged, “But I’m not here to disparage my brother, I’m here to talk to you. You know why he’s returned, don’t you?” 

Abraham stilled, stopping his struggle against Victor’s control. “I know what he told me.” 

“Ah… of course. He’s always been ambitious. Always willing to sacrifice someone else for his own ends,” Victor’s footsteps crunched against the snow. He stopped in front of Abraham, looking down at him with cold blue eyes. He looked young, hardly much older than Abraham himself, but there was something ancient in his gaze, a weight that Abraham found himself withering under. He tugged at the knots around his mind, feeling the control of his limbs slowly coming back. “Why has he returned?” 

There was no compulsion in the words, but Abraham tensed all the same, “I think that’s something you should ask him.” He could shift his foot, could move his right leg up to the knee. Sweat slid down his spine despite the cold.

“Come now, Abraham. May I call you that? Whatever loyalty you have to him, know that he’s using it to manipulate you. Once he is finished with you, turning you out will be the least of what happens. I just want to know why he’s back and if it puts me or my country in danger. Surely you can understand that he’s delusional. Whatever he thinks is happening here isn’t.” Cold fingers wrapped around his shoulder, and Abraham jumped, launching to his feet and knocking the hand away. Victor’s eyes widened, and he took half a step back. 

Abraham was breathing hard. Pain flared in his skull, sparked along the back of his neck. “I can assure you, I don’t know anything. He brought me back with him, and… convinced me to stay.” He wasn’t good at this, didn’t have a talent for spinning a story so he kept close to the truth. “I don’t know how he thinks I can be of use. Now, if you’ll excuse me, your highness.” He bowed, and pushed past Victor, his skin feeling hot and prickly. 

“Just be careful, Abraham,” The man called after him, “I am not the enemy he’s painted me to be.” 

Abraham didn’t respond. His shoulder burned where Victor had touched him, as if the cold could sear through to his very soul. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Again, sorry for missing a chapter last week, and that this one is a little on the short side. Work is trying to kill me, I swear, and then we lost power for a bit and it just didn't come together. 
> 
> Anyway! I'm excited to continue with this story, because I had to change some things because Abe and Dorian didn't do what I had planned (or rather, their characters have grown in a way I didn't expect) so I'm excited to see how things continue to unfold!
> 
> If you want updates, or to know things like... I have to skip a week of posting, you can follow me at all my social media, I post updates and such there. If you liked this, drop me a comment! I'm not kidding when I say that those get me going more than anything, especially if you want to chat about theories and your interpretation of the work!
> 
> You can find me at robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> and @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> My twitter has the bonus of getting snippets and occasionally recs for whatever I'm reading at the moment!


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